


When I need you, I need it Quickly

by marvelous_things



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU where you're either born a dom or a sub, Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Bottom Louis, Coming Untouched, Daddy Harry, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Edging, Established Relationship, Gentle Dom Harry, Kink Discovery, Lactation Kink, Louis in Panties, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Phone Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Louis, Sex Toys, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Spanking Kink, Sub Louis, Subspace, coming inside kink, lots of dirty talk actually fml, lots of fluff too and some angst, not much plot tbh just lots of smut, pretty heavy lactation kink so beware, so kind of like abo but different, some jealousy, some possessiveness, soo much daddy kink omg i'm sorry, this is a piece of shit lmao, tummy worship, very light bdsm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 151,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelous_things/pseuds/marvelous_things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His wrist almost numb, Louis practically dissolves into the pillow, panting and guilty as can be, his belly splattered with his own come. He wipes himself off with a tissue and rolls over, only vaguely satisfied. And he thinks of how Harry might have actually done it – he might have actually ruined Louis, rendered him incapable of wanting anyone else...<i>anything</i> else.</p><p> <br/>And how terribly smug he would be if he knew."</p><p> </p><p>/// or, the daddy!kink dom/sub au nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Banquet

 

  
There's less than an hour remaining until the start of what is likely to be the most important night of Louis Tomlinson’s life thus far and he is probably,  _definitely_  panicking. Not to mention, his hair is downright refusing to cooperate. He’s standing in his tiny dorm bathroom, the mirror still all fogged-up from the shower, frowning at the wet, wilted strands of his fringe.  
  
  
" _Zayn_ ," he whines, dropping his comb in defeat.  
  
  
His roommate appears in the doorway a moment later with a yawn, casual and unconcerned as always.  _Of course_  Zayn wasn’t worried. He woke up every morning looking like he’d just stepped fresh off the pages of  _Vogue_ , for fuck's sake.   
  
  
“What’s wrong, Lou?”  
  
  
Louis's shoulders sag, scowling at his reflection. “I don’t know what to do with my hair.”  
  
  
Zayn hums in thought and steps closer, raising a hand to stroke through the damp strands. “Think it looks best when your quiff is all feathery.”  
  
  
“Could you help? It never looks as good when I do it.”  
  
  
Zayn just nods, yawning once more into the back of his hand.  
  
  
Louis closes the lid of the toilet and sits down, his feet crossed at the ankles, letting Zayn smooth some product into his hair. It smells like cucumber-melon, and Louis really hopes that won't be a turn-off. The banquet is tonight.  
  
  
Zayn sculpts his fringe, using a round brush and a hair dryer. He finishes the look with some hairspray, holding the feathered, caramel locks in place. “All done,” he says, stepping back so Louis can look in the mirror. The hair dryer rests on the countertop, ticking as it cools.  
  
  
Louis smiles at his reflection this time, pleased with Zayn’s handiwork. Although his face quickly falls when he remembers he still hasn’t decided on an outfit for tonight. “Thanks,” he murmurs quietly, “…but what am I going to  _wear_?”  
  
  
Zayn follows him out of the bathroom and into the small dorm room that they share. The space is a bit cramped, but they’ve made it their own. He plops down on one of the twin beds and watches as Louis roots through his wardrobe, biting at his thumbnail the whole time, a nervous habit.  
  
  
“Are you worried, Louis?”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. "No, Zayn," he retorts, thick with sarcasm. "I'm perfectly calm. Haven't you noticed?"  
  
  
Zayn just shakes his head, the corner of his lip quirking up a bit. "You know you're going to get paired up, right?"  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. "Nothing is a certainty."  
  
  
"Your  _arse_  is a certainty."  
  
  
Louis snorts. "Yes, well...you need more than just a nice arse to get matched at these things."  
  
  
In this world, regardless of gender or orientation, you were either born a dominant or submissive, and Louis is definitely a sub. Zayn is, too. That's why they're here, living in this door room, attending an Academy with all the rest of the university-aged subs in the area. The Academy for dominants was just a few blocks over, and tonight, the annual 'matchmaking banquet' would be held. It wasn't mandatory; just a chance for single dominants and submissives to come together and meet, maybe pair up if you were lucky enough to find a mate. If not, there was always next year.  
  
  
Louis has never attended one of these banquets before, but he's sort of hoping this will be  _his_  year. 

 

  
  
At eight o’clock sharp, the subs are led through the Academy’s Great Hall and into the ballroom, instructed to wait for the doms to arrive. A diamond chandelier is suspended from the ceiling, casting a warm, twinkling glow across the room. Buffet tables line the walls, filled to the brim with savory appetizer platters and bottles of sparkling champagne and cider. The lounge area is arranged with small tables and chairs, looking comfortable and inviting. Music spills from the speakers in the corner, something soft and upbeat, underpinning the ever-present tension in the air.  
   
  
Louis glances around the room at the other subs, noticing that he apparently isn’t the only nervous one. He starts to fidget, compulsively fixing his fringe and tugging at his clothes.  
  
  
Zayn, on the other hand, sits casually beside him, still completely unperturbed. "Mate, you've got to calm down, I'm telling you."  
  
  
"Fuck off," Louis whispers back, straightening his shirt hem.  
  
  
Maybe if he's lucky, someone in the crowd will find his nervous habits positively endearing.  
  
  
(Or maybe he's fucked.)  
  
  
It isn't long before they hear the sound of approaching voices, and Louis holds his breath as the double-doors at the end of the ballroom are opened, welcoming the dominants inside. They file in in a flash of expensive cologne, evening gowns, and finely tailored suits, some of them smiling cavalierly, others looking utterly intimidating.  
  
  
Slowly, the tension in the air begins to dissipate as the doms float around the room, introducing themselves to potential mates and making small talk, flirting and mingling.  
  
  
Nothing was set in stone; if a sub caught the interest of a dom, the dom could slip into the next room and request the sub's files. The files listed personal and background information about the sub, as well as their Greens and Reds (acts they were willing and unwilling to perform in the bedroom). After looking over the sub’s files, the dom could then decide whether they'd like to be matched or not, and at the end of the night, the subs would be notified if they received any requests to be paired up. It was all in the sub's hands then, whether to accept or decline the dom's offer.  
  
  
Louis stands in the lounge area and is approached by a dominant for the sixth time that night. He introduces himself for the sixth time, and everything is beginning to sound like a broken record, on an endless, stagnant loop. He makes polite conversation, just waiting and praying for a  _spark_.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry Styles is running not-so-fashionably late.  
  
  
He's sat in the passenger seat of a Bentley, staring out the window as Liam drives through the city streets, lit up with the night.  
  
  
“I’m not sure why we bother to attend these things, if I'm honest," Harry mutters, checking the time on his iPhone. "This will be, what? The fourth time we've been?"  
  
  
“Ah, come on, H,” Liam says, “We haven’t been back in nearly two years! There will be a whole new class of graduates there tonight. You never know, you just might find the one.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head with a slight chuckle. "Such an optimist, Liam."  
  
  
"I promise not to drag you back here, next year. This will be the last one," Liam says, pulling the car forward as the traffic light turns green.  
  
  
"If we're lucky, there won't be a need for us to come back, anyway," Harry laments, and then he points, "It's just up ahead."  
  
  
  
Liam parks along the curb, and together, they step out onto a cobblestone street. The valet servicemen takes the keys, and then they're led through the double-doors of the Academy's great hall, ending up in a familiar, sparkling ballroom.  
  
  
Unfortunately, Liam’s optimism isn’t contagious. Harry makes his way straight to the buffet table and swipes up a glass of champagne, hoping to loosen up a bit. He finds some bare wall-space to lean against and skims the room with his eyes, feeling more and more skeptical and pessimistic. There's  _a lot_  of girls here this year, some of them gazing up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and well...that's a lost cause. Harry is really only into guys.  
  
  
He isn't even sure exactly what he's looking for, really. He just holds onto the hope that when he finds it, he'll know.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Louis sighs, pulling at the hem of his shirt again. He's been introduced to quite a few dominants so far, and they were  _okay_ , but he can't be sure if they liked him or not—or if he even  _wants_  to be liked by them. It all becomes a blur of faces, after a while.  
  
  
He searches the crowd for Zayn, spotting him towards the edge of the lounge, immersed in conversation with a handsome, friendly-looking dom, and their body language tells Louis all he needs to know. So Zayn found someone in record time, then? No surprises there.  
  
  
Louis is internally congratulating his roommate while cursing his own shit luck when suddenly, he feels a hand smooth down the small of his back, resting _just_ above the swell of his arse. He lets out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, spinning around.  
  
  
A dom stands before him, tall and tan with sleek blond hair and a lascivious smirk on his face. Louis swallows thickly, his stomach filling with lead. He  _hates_ these kind of dominants, so forward and pushy and entitled. He doesn't like being groped without warning, and he certainly doesn't like the look in this guy's eyes, like a starved animal regarding its prey.  
  
  
He extends his hand, shaking Louis’s as he introduces himself. “Jamison Hale. Pleasure.”  
  
  
“Louis Tomlinson,” he mutters, dropping his hand immediately.  
  
  
The dom, oblivious to how desperately uninterested Louis is, begins to circle him like a hawk, his eyes traveling shamelessly. He presses in close from behind and leans over Louis’s shoulder, whispering into his ear. “ _Very nice_.  _You’re just a little twink, aren’t you?_ ”  
  
  
Louis cringes and bites down hard on his lip. He knows he shouldn't be fazed, that this is just how some dominants choose to approach submissives, skipping pleasantries in favour of brash proclamations. Louis  _knows_  this. But still, it's fucking disgusting, and he would really like to dig a hole and bury himself in it right about now.  
  
  
"Come with me," Jamison says, nodding towards the buffet tables. "Let's have a drink."  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. "No, thank you."  
  
  
Jamison quirks his brow. "Why not?"  
  
  
"Er - I'm not thirsty."  
  
  
Jamison laughs, "That's not the point."  
  
  
"It isn't?"  
  
  
Jamison curls his arm around Louis’s back then, nudging him forward. "Oh, come on. I know your type. Some champagne outta loosen you right up."  
  
  
Louis darts out from under his arm, backing away. The longer this goes on, the more uncomfortable he feels. "No. Thank you, but no."  
  
  
Jamison looks as if he's been slapped. His brow furrows, completely affronted by the rejection. "What the fuck is your—”  
  
  
"Excuse me," an unfamiliar voice suddenly cuts in.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen. He spins around at the interruption, taken aback. Another dominant stands before them, one Louis has never seen before in his life. He gives Jamison a brief look of contempt and then his gaze shifts to Louis, lighting up with a smile. "There you are!" he exclaims, "I've been looking all over for you."  
  
  
Louis gapes at him, his mouth like fish.  _What?_  
  
  
“Er..." Louis falters.  
  
  
"You two know each other?" Jamison asks, voice full of irritation. He doesn't sound at all pleased to have been interrupted.  
  
  
The stranger pays him no attention, keeping his eyes on Louis. "Come on then, let's go fetch us a bruschetta scone," he says, beckoning Louis with his hand. Louis wracks his brain - maybe he has met this guy before and just doesn't remember? But...no. There's no way in hell Louis would ever forget that face. Still, he follows after him without a word, reveling in the way Jamison curses under his breath after they slip away together.  
  
  
They weave through the crowd until they've reached the other side of the ballroom, a quieter place near the double-doors. The dom stops then, turning back to look at Louis, his brow furrowed a bit in concern. “Are you alright?”  
  
  
And then it dawns on Louis. They don't know each other after all; this guy was just trying to help him. "Oh, er - yeah, I'm fine."  
  
  
"Sorry," the dom says. "I hope I wasn't actually intruding on anything? That guy just seemed really persistent."  
  
  
"Oh, no, no, definitely," Louis mutters, stumbling over his words. "He was a total wanker. Thanks a lot for, uhm, that."  
  
  
Looking back at this guy, Louis thinks he can't really be blamed for feeling at a loss for words. _God_ , he's beautiful. His hair falls to his shoulders in gentle, chocolate waves, and there's warmth in his eyes, a soft color of jade. He's dressed in Burberry, with a sheer black button-up top, opened to the middle of his chest. A butterfly peeks out, tattooed onto porcelain skin. And Louis suppresses an urge to reach out and trace its wings with his fingertips.  
  
  
_Right…he’s never going to choose me_ , he thinks with a frown.  
  
  
“I’m Harry Styles,” the dom says then.  
  
  
"Louis," he replies, his voice annoyingly quiet. “Louis Tomlinson.”  
  
  
Harry nods. “Is this your first time at a banquet?”  
  
  
“Erm – yes,” Louis answers, mentally kicking himself. First impressions were everything, and here he was, a stuttering, mumbling fool.  
  
  
Harry hums, thoughtfully. “So you've just graduated then, yeah?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis says. He hopes that Harry will think that’s a good thing.  
  
  
Harry nods. “This is the fourth one I've been to," he says, chuckling self-deprecatingly. "Haven't had much luck.”  
  
  
Louis’s heart sinks at that. This guy must have very high standards. He would  _definitely_  never choose Louis.  
  
  
“I, uhm. I hope you find someone tonight, then,” Louis offers.  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Thank you. I’ll let you get back to mingling, now,” he says. He puts his hands together, tilting his head forward in a bow. "Was nice meeting you."  
  
  
Louis watches as he walks away, wanting nothing more than to follow after him and tuck himself under his arm. His heart clenches when Harry doesn't walk to the information room to request Louis’s files. Instead, he makes his way to the edge of the lounge, whispering something to the dom who was still chatting with Zayn.  
  
  
Dejected, Louis heads to the buffet tables, piling up a plate with cocktail shrimp and bruschetta scones. He sits alone at a nearby table, sipping on sparkling cider. Occasionally, more doms approach, but he's given up on trying to impress them. There isn’t a single person in this room that he'd like to be matched with, with only one major exception.   
  
  
  
  
Towards the end of the night, the dominants were led outside onto the balcony, while the submissives stayed in the ballroom, waiting to hear if they had received any match requests. Ms. Truman, president of the Academy, stands on the stage at the front of the room, a microphone in her hand. Beside her is a table filled with tiny envelopes, holding each individual request. The air is a palpable mix of nerves and heightened anticipation, as Ms. Truman reads off the names alphabetically, one by one.  
  
  
Louis fidgets, knowing that he's towards the end of the list. He sits beside Zayn who, once again, is completely unbothered.  
  
  
"How are you so calm?" Louis hisses under his breath.  
  
  
Zayn just shrugs. "Because I know there's a request for me up there, and I know exactly who it's from."  
  
  
Louis is about to press for more details when Ms. Truman calls out, “Malik, Zayn."  
  
  
Zayn stands up then, making his way towards the front of the room. Louis watches as he opens up his envelope the second it's placed into his hands, smiling at whatever is written inside. Then he confidently heads straight towards the balcony, in search of whoever made the request. And Louis thinks he would feel a lot happier for his friend, if he wasn't already feeling so anxious.  
  
  
Ms. Truman continues down the list, calling out name after name, until finally, “Tomlinson, Louis,” echoes through the room.  
  
  
Louis audibly gulps, standing up from his chair. He slowly makes his way to the stage, his footsteps loud in his ears. He climbs up the small staircase, meeting Ms. Truman at center stage. She smiles, placing an envelope in his hand. His name is written across the front in a neat, cursive scrawl.  
  
  
His hands shake a bit as he tears excitedly along the edge of the envelope, opening the flap, his hopes already sky-high, despite his efforts to keep his expectations low. A small, white card falls out into his palm with a single name written on it, and Louis feels his heart shatter, before the pieces sink down into the pit of his stomach... _Jamison Hale._  
  
  
He can't help the disappointment he feels now, crashing down on him from all sides. He crumbles the card up in his palm and turns on his heel, making his way back towards the stage exit, his face hot with embarrassment.  
  
  
Tonight was a mistake. He’s going to go back up to his dorm room, take off these stupid clothes, hide under his bed sheets and wait until morning, when he can pretend none of this ever happened.  
  
  
“Louis!” Ms. Truman's voice rings out.  
  
  
Louis falters in his steps and considers making a run for it, pretend he didn't hear her. Why prolong this public humiliation? However, he quickly loses his nerve and stops in his tracks, slowly turning back around.  
  
  
"Wait a moment," Ms. Truman says, double-checking the table. She waves her hand, urging him to come back, “…It seems that  _two_  requests have been made for you, Louis!"  
  
  
A hush falls over the room then, before people begin to whisper conspiringly amongst themselves. And Louis feels his heart rise up from the depths of his stomach, a sudden surge of hope gluing the pieces back together. He walks back to the table and Ms. Truman holds out a second envelope, giving him a sly smile. “In popular demand, I see?"  
_  
_  
Louis ignores her, taking the envelope. It's identical to the first one, and Louis quickly tears it open, his heart pounding in his ears. A little white card falls out, and it takes everything in Louis's power not to take a ridiculous leap of excitement when he sees the name written on the front. Instead, he crosses to the end of the stage and quickly makes his way down the steps, weaving through the ballroom until he's reached the entrance to the balcony.  
  
  
It's a warm summer night, and the patio is lit up by pretty fairy lights and the overhanging moon. Several couples are dispersed around the terrace, some engaged in hushed discussions, and others already snogging furiously (Louis has a suspicion that Zayn and his new dom are taking part in the latter). He spots Jamison, sitting alone, brooding in a dark corner, and Louis quickly darts out of sight, glancing nervously back over his shoulder. The last thing he wants is to deal with _that_ guy, again.  
  
  
He glances back one more time, making sure the coast is clear, and then bumps spectacularly into something solid and warm.  
  
  
Louis stumbles backward, and then an arm is going around his waist, catching his fall.  
  
  
"Shit, sorry. You alright?"  
  
  
Louis looks up, and it's Harry. Which,  _of course_  it's Harry.  
  
  
He feels his brain short circuit again, and only manages to nod his head.  
  
  
Harry smiles, steadying Louis on his feet before pulling away. "Hi."  
  
  
"Hi," Louis says, and he's suddenly feeling very, very shy.  
  
  
Harry observes him curiously, his face lit up by fairy lights. "So...does this mean you've accepted my request?"  
  
  
Louis nods.  
  
  
Harry smiles again, and his eyes are so kind. "So we're matched then, huh?"  
  
  
He motions towards a stone bench that’s placed under a nearby tree, and they sit down together, Louis's nerves officially taking flight. He fidgets, his eyes dropping to the ground. “Uhm, thank you. For choosing me, I mean,” he mutters.  
  
  
Harry nods. “Thank you for choosing me, too,” he says with a grin.  
  
  
Louis laughs, a little nervous, looking up at him. “Can – can I ask why you picked me?”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought, carding a hand up through his long hair to push it back from his face. "Well, I was rather attracted to you at first glance. I think that was sort of obvious," he says, chuckling a bit, and he me misses the look of surprise on Louis's face. “And then,” Harry continues, “I had a look at your file, and was pleasantly surprised to find that we're extremely compatible, so...I'd like to get to know you better, if that's okay?”  
  
  
Louis smiles down at his lap with a nod. “…’m happy.”  
  
  
Harry reaches out then, just a bit hesitant, brushing his fringe back with gentle fingers, and Louis preens at the affection. "Me, too."  
  
  
  
  
  
In what feels like no time at all, the balcony doors open, signaling the end of the banquet. And Louis frowns. He isn’t ready for the night to be over, yet.  
  
  
They stand up from the bench and Harry pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swiping his thumb at the screen to unlock it. He asks for Louis's number, saving it into his contacts. “I’d like to take you out to dinner on Friday, if you're up for it?"  
  
  
Louis nods, "yeah, that'd be great."   
  
  
Harry looks over his shoulder then, spotting Liam near the door and giving him a nod of recognition. Then he turns back to Louis. “I’ll text you tomorrow to check in, alright?"  
  
  
Louis nods again. "'kay."  
  
  
Harry smiles, lifting his arms to pull him into a hug. Louis flushes at the first bit of close contact, immediately noting how good Harry smells. But there’s also an anxious voice nagging at the back of his head. What if after Harry leaves, he changes his mind and never comes back?  
  
  
Harry sighs wistfully against the top of his head. "Alright...I'd better go, Liam's waiting. I'll come back for you on Friday," he says, pulling away.  
  
  
Louis looks up at him, biting his lip. "Promise?"  
  
  
Harry grins, nodding his head. "I promise."  
  
  
And Louis watches as he walks away.

 

 


	2. A Taste

 

When the banquet ended, Louis and Zayn headed back to their dorm room on the fifth floor, whispering indulgently about the night's strange yet auspicious turn of events. Zayn unlocked the door and then they kicked off their shoes, both falling backward onto Louis’s bed. They stared up at the ceiling, Zayn gushing about the warm toffee color of Liam’s eyes, while Louis tried to reiterate the  _exact_  size of Harry’s rather large hands.  
  
  
Zayn smirked sleepily. “That means he’s got a big cock.”  
  
  
Louis blushed at the thought and then gasped, mock-offended. “Don’t discuss Harry's cock without my permission,” he simpered, poking at Zayn’s shoulder.  
  
  
Zayn laughed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Y’know, I think we’re gonna end up living together? I overheard Liam and Harry talking, and it sounds like they share a house."  
  
  
Louis quirked his brow. “ _Really?_  Jesus…Talk about a weird coincidence.”  
  
  
Zayn nodded his head. “I thought so, too.” He sat up from the bed then, shrugging out of his blazer and tossing it away. He propped the window open and grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the desk, searching for a lighter. They weren’t allowed to smoke in the dorm rooms, but Zayn took the batteries out of the smoke detector months ago.  
  
  
Louis watched him from his place on the bed, wrinkling his nose. “What if Liam wants you to stop smoking?”  
  
  
Zayn shrugged, leaning far out the window as he exhaled a long drag. “I’d kick the habit for him.”  
  
  
Louis smiled at that, hopping up from the bed to change out of his stuffy banquet clothes. He slipped on a t-shirt and some joggers to sleep in, and took his contacts out. Then he brushed his teeth in the bathroom and came back to find Zayn crushing out the tiny butt of his cigarette. Louis sat down next to him on the windowsill, leaving it open to let the room air out. They listened to the nightlife still carrying on down below, the rush of traffic, blurred laughter from uni students leaving the pub, and then faintly, a police siren whirring somewhere in the distance.  
  
  
A breeze came through, and Louis folded his arms across his chest. “’m kinda nervous,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet.  
  
  
Zayn dragged his thumb over the metal of his lighter just to watch the flame. “About what?”  
  
  
“Just – I don’t know? What if I mess up somehow? I could be like, a 'bad sub.'"  
  
  
“You graduated from the Academy just fine,” Zayn reminded him.  
  
  
“Yeah, but learning how to do something is a lot easier than actually doing it.”  
  
  
“Don’t stress about it, Lou. If we do something they don’t like, they’ll let us know,” Zayn paused, his lips curling up into something not quite a smile. “Or they’ll just punish us.”  
  
  
Louis gulped. “Doesn’t that…like, worry you?”  
  
  
Zayn shrugged, scratching at the stubble on his neck. “Nah, Liam doesn’t seem too strict, if I’m honest. I’ll bet Harry’s the same way. The most punishment they’ll probably give is spanking us.”  
  
  
Louis squirmed where he sat.  _Punishment_. He had heard that word thousands of times before during his studies, but now that it was becoming a reality, it sounded much more harsh, somehow. “Won’t that  _hurt?_ ” he worried.  
  
  
Zayn smirked, biting his lip. “Some people like it. Like,  _really_  like it.”  
  
  
“Really?” Louis asked. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he had no experience at all when it came to sex stuff, other than tugging himself off with his own hand. Granted, Zayn wasn’t very experienced either, he just knew things.  
  
  
Zayn nodded. “Yup. I’ve seen guys come from getting spanked in porn.”  
  
  
“Wow,” Louis whispered.  
  
  
His mind was then assaulted with some rather intrusive thoughts – images of himself being bent over Harry’s lap, and he suppressed a shiver, hoping Zayn didn’t notice when his cock gave a tiny twitch inside his joggers.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Louis stayed close to his phone. He kept compulsively checking his lock screen for any call or message notifications, double-checking that it wasn’t on silent, but so far Harry hadn’t tried to contact him.  
  
  
By mid-afternoon, he was paranoid. Maybe Harry really  _did_  change his mind about wanting Louis as his mate. He should have never let his hopes get so high. It was better to expect the worst; you didn’t get let down so easily, that way.  
  
  
It was summer vacation, and after graduating from the Academy, Louis had no more classes to attend. So, he stayed in bed all day, watching Netflix and becoming more and more cynical as the hours passed. He was just about to drift off to sleep, his eyes becoming heavy during an old  _Friends_  rerun, when his iPhone lit up with a  _ping_.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widened, his sleepiness completely evaporated. He quickly scrambled for his phone, his breath catching when he saw a message notification from a number he didn’t recognise. He slid his thumb across the lock screen, opening to his inbox.  
  
  
  
_Hi, Louis. It’s Harry. This is my mobile number, please save it to your contacts. x  
  
  
_  
Louis buried his face into his pillow, letting out a rather pathetic squeal, but he didn’t feel the least bit ashamed about it. He had begun to think a message like this would never come, and the  _relief_  he felt now was well earned, in his humble opinion.  
  
  
His fingertips hovered over the keyboard, wondering what on earth he should say back. Not wanting to keep Harry waiting for a reply, he quickly tapped something out.  
  
  
  
_saved xx  
_  
  
  
He stared at his phone then, wondering if the conversation would end there, or if Harry would say anything else. He frowned when the screen idled out and went to black, but then it lit up again moments later.  
  
  
  
_Thank you. How are you?_  
  
  
  
_  
  
I’m ok, you?  
  
  
  
  
  
I'm doing alright._  
  
  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, trying to think of something else to say. He wasn't exactly the best at small talk, and he wasn't even sure if Harry wanted to carry on texting or not. Maybe another text would be annoying. But would it be rude not to reply at all?   
  
  
His dilemma practically resolved itself, however, when three little dots appeared on the screen, indicating that Harry was typing something else. And a moment later, another text appeared,  
  
_  
  
  
I’m really looking forward to seeing you again._  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s entirely possible that Louis spent the rest of the day smiling, and nobody had to know why.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next few days passed at an excruciating pace. It was custom for submissives to move in with their dominants after being matched, so Louis packed up his dorm room and kept his phone close by, the volume on full-blast, just in case Harry contacted him again.  
  
  
He texted once a day, twice on Wednesday.  
  
  
  
On Friday afternoon, Louis sat outside the Academy gates. Waiting. Fidgeting. Tugging at his clothes, and compulsively checking the time. Harry would be there any minute, now.  
  
  
His eyes widened when a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the curb and parked. He had suspected that Harry was rich, but it was still a surprise. He held his breath as Harry stepped out, wearing dark jeans and a floral-patterned shirt, his hair a bit wild with waves.  
  
  
Harry smiled and Louis stepped closer, just a little hesitant. He led him around to the passenger side with a hand hovering near the small of Louis’s back, opening the door for him. The car smelled brand new inside, like leather and money. Louis wasn’t used to that.  
  
  
There was something strangely attractive about the way Harry drove, leaning back casually against the seat, one hand on the steering wheel, turning it with his open palm. The other hand reached over, lightly touching Louis’s thigh.  
  
  
“I hope Italian is okay?” he murmured.  
  
  
Louis nodded vehemently. “Yeah, of course.”  
  
  
Harry pulled his hand away then and Louis reflexively reached for it back, stopping himself at the last second. Harry noticed though, glancing at him sideways with a grin.  
  
  
“Did you want to hold my hand?”  
  
  
“Er – if you do?”  
  
  
Harry reached back over, pulling Louis’s hand from where he had it tucked between his thighs, and lacing it with his own across the center console. It was a simple touch, something altogether new, and Louis found himself staring a bit, intrigued by the way Harry’s hand practically engulfed his own. His long fingers were adorned with several ornate, silver rings.  
  
  
It was quiet, and Louis turned to look out the window again, trying to come up with something to say. His mind was drawing a total blank, leaving him awkward and tongue-tied.  
  
  
Harry kept glancing over at him from the driver’s seat. “You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice soft.  
  
  
Louis tore his eyes away from the window, smiling weakly. He nodded his head, shifting in his seat. “I think I’m nervous,” he admitted.  
  
  
And Harry smiled back, “I think I am, too.”  
  
  
  
Dinner was spent at one of those high-end restaurants that Louis could never personally afford to go to. He thought they would need a reservation, but Harry must have some kind of connections, because one nod to the hostess had them bypassing the wait and led to a cozy, dimly lit table towards the back.  
  
  
Harry ordered some expensive wine and an array of hors d'oeuvres, most of which Louis had never heard of before. They chatted over fresh salad and steaming bowls of pasta, and Louis learned that Harry and Liam are business partners, having inherited a rather large chain of hotels from their fathers (yep, definitely rich). For the past two years, they’ve been sharing a house together in the neighbouring city.  
  
  
“Can’t believe me and Zayn are going to live together,” Louis wondered aloud, stabbing at a sautéed shrimp with his fork.  
  
  
“You two know each other?” Harry asked, his left brow rising up.  
  
  
Louis nodded. “He’s my best mate. We share a dorm at the Academy.”  
  
  
“That’s…a really strange coincidence,” Harry laughed, twirling some linguine around his fork. “This must be fate.”  
  
  
Louis’s stomach flipped at that, and he quickly looked down at his plate.  
  
  
“It's good to hear, actually,” Harry added, “You two can keep each other company whenever Liam and I are away on business.”  
  
  
Louis frowned. “Do you go away a lot?”  
  
  
Harry shrugged, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Not too much. It depends on the time of year, really. And you can tag along with us on most of the trips. If you want to, that is.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, taking a sip of his lemon water. “I, uhm, haven’t done much traveling.”  
  
  
“No?” Harry asked, curious rather than accusatory. “What’s the furthest you’ve been?”  
  
  
“Uhm...well, when I was younger I went to Paris. Once. With my grandfather.”  
  
  
Harry nodded sagely, and then Louis asked, “what about you?”  
  
  
“I’ve…been to a lot of places,” Harry said, carefully, as if he didn't want to come off as boastful. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid, because of my dad’s job, so lots of traveling.”  
  
  
“That must have been fun.”  
  
  
Harry nodded again, setting down his fork. “It was for the most part, but like – I dunno? It was sort of hard to make friends like that, always being in a new place.”  
  
  
Louis made a soft sound of understanding, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin before folding it onto his plate. The check arrived then, and Harry swiftly tucked his credit card into the little black booklet before handing it back to the waiter.  
  
  
Louis fidgeted in his seat. “Erm, how much was my meal?”  
  
  
Harry smiled. “Not telling you. It's my treat.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.”  
  
  
“I’d like to, though.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After dinner, they drive to Harry’s house, nestled in the ritzy estate area, of course; swimming pools and acres of green. They pass through a wrought-iron gate, and Louis’s jaw falls open when they pull into the driveway. The place is huge. They climb a short flight of steps up to a stone patio, and Louis wonders if this is actually a dream he'll soon wake up from, desolate and pining for more. Strangely, the hand that rests on the small of his back feels very real.  
  
  
They pass through double-front doors, and Harry quickly disables the alarm system, flicking on the lights. Louis hovers near him in the foyer, glancing around. Everything looks so clean and bright and opulent. High ceilings and an open floor plan; stylish, modern furnishings; white crown-molding set against hardwood floors, and a grand staircase positioned just past the foyer, ascending up to the second floor. Louis is half-expecting a well paid servant to appear at any moment, offering up a tray of fine wine, but the stillness that rings through the walls, paired with the echoes of their footsteps across the floor, tells him that they're here alone. He moves closer to Harry, too intimidated to touch anything. The last thing he needs is to break a vase that likely costs more than his childhood home.   
  
  
Harry gives him a quick tour of the place, sticking to the downstairs for now. He shows Louis around the kitchen and dining room, before leading him down a passageway to the study, the entertainment room, the home-gym, and the lounge. Harry talks as he goes, giving modest explanations, and Louis is once again met with the impression that he's afraid of sounding boastful. He has more than enough reasons to be a show off, with a million and one things to brag about, but he doesn't. Not at all.  
  
  
It's endearing, and Louis trails quietly behind, looking and listening.  
  
  
At the end of the tour, they wind up in the den, branching off from the kitchen. There's a big screen television surrounded by a few sofas and armchairs, a coffee table scattered with magazines, and a fireplace, photographs lining its mantlepiece. The den is wide and open and practically radiates comfort, giving off a feeling of ‘home.’  
  
  
“This is probably the room we spend the most time in,” Harry tells him, glancing around. He picks up a small remote from the coffee table and presses a few buttons, and moments later, the fireplace comes to life, the flames crackling warmly against stone. Harry motions towards one of the plush sofas then and they sit down together, a careful arm's length left between them.   
  
  
Louis clears his throat, still feeling a little awestruck. “I – your house is really nice,” he says, and it’s definitely an understatement. This place is luxury like Louis has never known, and with each passing minute, he's more and more convinced that Harry made a mistake in choosing him.  
  
  
Harry just chuckles, a little self-deprecatingly, rubbing at his nose. “It’s a bit much for just two people, yeah? Maybe we won’t look so ridiculous once you and Zayn move in.”  
  
  
That gives Louis pause. He averts his eyes, straightening his shirt hem. “So…you’re sure then?”  
  
  
Harry tilts his head in confusion. “About what?”  
  
  
“Just,” Louis shakes his head. “I don’t know…that you want to stay matched with me?”  
  
  
Harry raises his brow, taken aback, and then his expression warms. He reaches out, resting his hand against Louis’s thigh. “I’m very sure,” he tells him.  
  
  
They lapse into silence then, and the house is so very quiet, the air warm from the fire and thick with tension. Louis wonders if Harry can hear just how fast his heart is pounding.  _What happens now?_  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry says after a moment.  
  
  
Louis almost flinches, nervous beyond belief, and he looks up at Harry again for what feels like the first time in ages.  
  
  
Harry smiles, a little unsure, “I think...I feel stupid asking, but I'd like to kiss you, if you're up for it?"  
  
  
Louis stares up at him, his mind numb, and he must have managed to nod his head at some point because the next thing he knows, Harry is slowly leaning forward, his hand ghosting along Louis’s jawline.  
  
  
Louis tenses up, unable to help himself, and Harry notices his apprehension immediately. He pauses inches away from his face, his eyes searching Louis’s.  
  
  
“…Is something wrong?”

  
  
Shame settles in Louis’s stomach. It’s only the first night, and he’s already fucking things up. “Uhm,” he softly clears his throat, “it’s just – I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time. Since I was quite young, actually. And I don’t...” He averts his eyes again,  _mortified_. “Just, sorry if I’m bad at it,” he mumbles quickly, laughing to disguise his embarrassment.   
  
  
Harry’s eyes soften at that, looking strangely relieved. “Come here,” he murmurs. Louis looks at him questioningly and Harry wraps his hands around each of Louis’s biceps, gently pulling him onto his lap. Louis sits with his knees bracketing Harry’s thighs, facing him, and suddenly that ever-present tension spikes to a level unknown, somewhere off the radar. They've never been this close before.  
  
  
Louis's nerves are officially plunging across a tightrope.  
  
  
Harry’s hands skirt up his arms and over his shoulders, coming to rest at his neck. He smiles up at him, sensing just how anxious Louis is. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” Harry whispers, leaning in so,  _so_  close, Louis could count his eyelashes.  
  
  
It feels as if the moment is suspended delicately in time, and then their mouths finally cross that extra inch and  _seal_  together. And Louis doesn't think they were ever really meant to be apart.  
  
  
He's never known anything quite like Harry’s lips, plush and petal soft, just a bit damp. His eyes drift to a close as Harry’s mouth moves against his own, slow and deliberate. Harry's fingertips brush at the soft spot below his ear, and Louis trembles on his lap. His ears have always been so sensitive.   
  
  
Harry guides Louis with subtle shifts of his hands and lips, tilting his head down and a bit to the side for better access. He's so _gentle_ , unbothered by the slow pace and Louis's blatant inexperience. He kisses at the corner of Louis's mouth and then trails his lips back to the center with soft little pecks, letting Louis explore each sensation, making sure he's comfortable. And Louis can feel himself shaking slightly, already anxious and jittery for more.

  
Harry pulls away then, leaving just a hairsbreadth of space between them, nosing at Louis's cheek. “Open your mouth a bit,” he breathes, and his voice is so impossibly rough and soft at the same time.  
  
  
Louis does, parting his lips. A nervous breath escapes, and then Harry’s hot mouth closes around his lower lip and starts to suck. Louis feels his eyelashes flutter at the sensation. _Christ, that feels good_. He makes a tiny sound, something close to a whimper, and Harry must like that because he drags Louis in even closer, sucking leisurely at his bottom lip like he has all the time in the world.  
  
  
And he does. He really does.  
  
  
The soft, wet sounds that pass between their lips sound anything but innocent, loud in the quiet. And then Harry pulls back again to check on him, smiling when he sees the expression on his face. Louis can only imagine how debauched he must look right now; pink lips and hooded eyes.  
  
  
"You alright?" Harry asks, the dimple popping out in his cheek.  
  
  
Louis just nods. He wants Harry to keep kissing him, doesn't want to stop. He's too embarrassed to ask for more, but he doesn't have to, as Harry leans in again. “Gonna lick into your mouth now, okay?” he whispers, breathing a bit quickened against his lips.  
  
  
Louis can only nod before Harry slowly closes the space between them once more, tracing his tongue along his bottom lip before delving inside, tasting him. The tip of his tongue teases at Louis’s, gentle and wet, and Louis experimentally flicks back. Harry gives a low hum of approval, and Louis shivers.  
  
  
Harry's hands drift down from his neck to rest against his back, fingertips stroking at his spine. His palm practically spans the width of Louis's lower back, pulling him in even  _closer_  so that their chests are nearly touching. It’s then that Louis realises his own arms are still hanging loosely at his sides, and he instinctively wraps them around Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. Harry smirks against his lips at that, kissing him with more fervor. His teeth nibble at Louis’s lower lip, so light and teasing that Louis’s eyes roll back. His hand clenches involuntarily in Harry’s curls with a tug, and Harry  _groans_.  
  
  
Louis pulls away in surprise at the noise, pink-cheeked as he stares back at Harry, their lips wet and breaths coming in shallow pants.  
  
  
Harry looks back at him with dark eyes, his pupils wide and blown. And then he shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts. He smiles reassuringly at Louis, sliding his hands down his sides to rest at his hips, patting gently. “You never have to worry about being a bad kisser,” he tells him with a low chuckle.  
  
  
Louis collapses against him then, burying his face in the nook of his neck and shoulder. His skin is hot all over, tingly, and he can feel himself flushing.  
  
  
“Harry…” he whispers after a moment.  
  
  
Harry’s hands rub at his back, soft little circles. “Yeah?”  
  
  
Louis shifts around a bit on his lap, biting uncertainly at his lip. “I feel kind of…” his voice trails off, unable to finish.  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry murmurs.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, embarrassed.  
  
  
Harry's brow furrows in confusion before it dawns on him. He smiles against Louis's hair, sliding his hand around to his lap. There's a telltale bulge at the front of his jeans, and Harry lightly brushes his knuckle against it, confirming his suspicions. “…You’re hard?”  
  
  
Louis nods, still hiding shyly against Harry's neck, his body jolting slightly from having his dick touched. “Sorry.”  
  
  
He feels Harry’s chest rumble with a warm laugh. “No need to apologise.” He presses a kiss to Louis’s hair. “I like it. Although I’d better drive you back to the Academy, now. Don’t want to move too fast, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head and reluctantly climbs up from Harry’s lap, still flushed and hard and hopelessly obvious. Harry doesn't tease him about it, though, just smiles on their way to the door.    
  
  
  
  
  
The drive home is relatively silent, but Louis doesn’t mind. His head is still pleasantly swimming with the thought of Harry’s lips, Harry's  _taste_ , Harry’s hand resting on his thigh across the center console.  
  
  
They park outside of the Academy gates and Harry steps out, opening the passenger door for Louis. He gently presses him back against the car, tipping his head to nuzzle at Louis’s neck. “Have you packed your things, yet?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his skin buzzing at the affection. “Yep.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Good. I’ll come back for you on Monday and we can start the moving process, alright?”  
  
  
Louis nods again. “Okay…it won’t take very long, though. I, uhm, don’t have much stuff,” he quietly admits.  
  
  
Harry nips lovingly at his neck. “ _God_ , ’m gonna spoil you  _rotten_ ,” he promises, making Louis giggle.  
  
  
Harry noses at the soft spot behind Louis's ear, breathing him in, kissing him there, causing Louis’s breath to catch in his throat. He’s not used to being touched like this. It makes his heart race faster than he can catch, but he likes it.  
  
  
Fuck, he likes it.  
  
  
Harry pushes a leg between his thighs then, brushing up against Louis's cock, still half-hard in his jeans. Louis's eyes widen, resisting an involuntary urge to rock back against him. He bites his lip as Harry holds his thigh there; a dull, constant pressure, making Louis crave some type of movement, rhythm and friction. Harry's voice is low in his ear. “I want you to go back to your dorm and take care of this,” he whispers, pressing another kiss behind his ear. “Maybe think of me when you get off. Can you do that?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly, his cock helplessly filling back up again. “Yes,” he breathes.  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Good boy.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After Harry drives away, Louis makes his way back up to his dorm in a feverish daze, tugging his jumper down over his thighs to hide his erection. He fumbles with his keys and unlocks the door, thanking the gods that Zayn is still out somewhere with Liam. Louis can be as obvious as he wants.  
  
  
He heads straight for the shower, twisting at the rusted taps. The mirror fogs up with steam as he quickly strips out of his clothes, tossing them towards the hamper. Then he steps inside the tiny cubicle, letting the hot water soak into his skin.  
  
  
Looking down, his dick is hard and bobbing up between his thighs, a strange souvenir from his first date. He bites his lip and leans his forehead against the damp shower wall, exhaling shakily when he finally wraps a hand around himself. It’s not like he’s a stranger to jerking off in the shower or anything (sharing a dorm room with your best mate doesn’t leave many options), but this time, it feels…different, somehow. This isn't just a typical wank. It’s a _request_ he was given, something _Harry_ wants him to do.  
  
  
He gives himself a few quick tugs, feeling his dick twitch against his palm. His eyes fall closed, and he thinks of what it would be like to have Harry’s hand on him instead. A wide palm and long, gentle fingers, stroking him 'til he comes. Then he pictures those same hands wrapped around his waist, fingertips pressing into the small of his back, holding him close and keeping him still. He remembers the way Harry licked into his mouth, the way he groaned when his hair was pulled.  
  
  
Louis would give anything to hear that sound again.  
  
  
He makes a small sound of his own, whimpering quietly in the back of his throat as he curls his fist up around his cockhead. He can’t remember a time when he’s felt this desperate for something more than his own hand. He’s turned on, and close to coming, but it’s _more_ than that.  
  
  
He can’t help but wonder what it would be like, to let Harry fuck him.  
  
  
He's never been fucked, before.  
  
  
There’s precome gathering at the tip of his dick and he thumbs at it, letting out a whine that echoes off the tiles. He thinks he can hear Harry’s voice in his ear, low and rough and whispering praises. _Good boy_.  
  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” Louis whispers, testing the name on his lips, in too deep to feel ashamed.  
  
  
He gives himself a little squeeze, imagines Harry wrapped up between his thighs, moving inside him, making Louis cry out and come apart on his cock.  
_  
  
_ Louis’s dick _aches_ at the thought and he pumps himself with quick, jerking movements, panting now, whispering Harry’s name between breaths, unable to stop himself. He's got one arm folded against the wall, hiding his face against it as he fucks his hand, tightening his grip, and he’s so, so _close._ Doing just as Harry told him to, obeying his request with ease.  
  
  
He isn’t ready for the word, when it escapes his lips without warning.  
  
  
  
“ _…Daddy,_ ” he whimpers, and then he's coming with a choked-off moan, spilling white and warm over his fingers.  
  
  
He slumps back against the tiled shower wall to catch his breath, water dripping from his fringe and splattered across the floor. He opens his eyes, his gaze unfocused as the steam rises around him in soft little tufts, hazy from an orgasm.   
  
  
  
  
_...Daddy?_

 

 

 

 


	3. Home

Sunday marked the beginning of departure week—the week when graduate submissives packed up their dorm rooms and moved out of the Academy. That morning, they had to wake up early and attend a mandatory meeting in the lecture hall, where Ms. Truman droned on and on, informing them of any last minute notices ( _“Don’t forget to bring your room keys back to the admission’s office!”_ ) Louis and Zayn sat slumped in the back row, their eyes growing heavy with boredom.  
  
  
“Man, I can’t wait to get out of here,” Zayn muttered under his breath, and Louis nodded in agreement.  
  
  
When they were finally dismissed, Zayn headed down to the dining hall and Louis made his way back up to the dorm, more than ready for a nap. He didn’t get much sleep the night before, too busy counting down the hours until he could leave this place.  
  
  
It’s not like he hated it here or anything. In fact, life at the Academy was actually pretty nice at times. It’s just that ever since Louis met Harry…well, he kind of never wanted to be away from him again, was the thing. It scared him, really. Feeling that much so soon. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. After all, he had only known Harry for seven days.

  
  
Somehow, it seemed like enough.  
  
  
  
The fifth floor dorms were graciously quiet that morning. Louis returned to a room scattered with cardboard boxes, prepping for the move. His bed was still unmade, just as he left it, inviting him back in with open arms. So he stripped out of his jeans and climbed under the sheets, falling asleep to the thought of being held against a solid chest.  
  
  
Three hours later, Louis woke up feeling a bit groggy but well rested after his nap. He rubbed at his eyes, peeking them open to see Zayn in the middle of their dorm room, standing on a chair and reaching his arms up towards the ceiling. He carefully slipped a pair of batteries back into the smoke detector, smirking when he noticed Louis watching him. “Figured they’d be wanting these back before we go,” he mused.

  
  
Louis snorted. “Such a rebel, Zayn.” He sat up in bed then, patting his hands on the mattress in search of his phone. He furrowed his brow, shaking out the blankets and checking underneath his pillow. It wasn’t there. Where the hell—?  
_  
  
_ That’s when he noticed the jeans he wore earlier, crumpled up on top of the hamper in the corner. He climbed out of bed and quickly snatched them up, digging through the pockets. Relieved, he found his phone tucked inside and carried it back to bed with him. He collapsed against the pillows and swiped his thumb at the lockscreen, finding a message notification at the front. His stomach gave a little swoop when he saw it was from Harry.  
  
  
  
_I’ll be there in the morning to help you move, love. What’s your dorm room number?_  
  
  
  
Louis smiled and bit down on the corner of his lip, tapping out  _517_.

 

 

  
  
  
xXx

 

 

 

  
  
The next morning, Zayn tossed his last pair of socks into a cardboard box, double-checking the wardrobe to make sure it was empty before shutting the dresser drawers. All of the furniture in the dorm room belonged to the Academy, so there wasn’t much for him to take. In the end, he only needed four boxes, filled with his clothes and shoes, toiletries, art supplies, and personal items he took with him when he moved out of his parent’s house a year ago.  
  
  
Around eleven o’clock, there was a knock at the door. He pulled it open and stepped aside, letting Harry and Liam pass through. He felt his stomach do that stupid fluttering thing (he refused to call it  _butterflies_ ) when he saw Liam, and it was only made worse when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.  
  
  
“Hey, babe,” Liam greeted with a smile, looking more than happy to see him, and fuck, it was ridiculous how good that made Zayn feel.  
  
  
Harry stepped around them to find Louis, while Liam glanced around the dorm. “Ready to go?” he asked.  
  
  
Zayn nodded, gesturing to where his moving boxes were gathered on the floor. “It’s not much, but...” he shrugged.  
  
  
The box holding his art supplies caught Liam’s eye, as some of Zayn’s sketches were lying carefully across the top. “Wow,” he whispered under his breath, bending to get a closer look. “Did you actually  _draw_  these?”  
  
  
“Yep,” Zayn said, tucking his hands into his pockets.  
  
  
Liam picked up the portrait Zayn sketched of his mum then, holding it gently, as if it were something  _precious_. And Zayn bit down on his lip to hold back a grin.  
  
  
“That’s my mum,” he said, his voice quiet.  
  
  
“Wow,” Liam whispered again. He carefully put the portrait back, straightening up to look at him. “You mentioned you were an artist, Zayn, but you didn’t tell me you were  _this_  good.”  
  
  
Zayn might actually be blushing. “Thank you,” he said, eyes cast towards the floor.  
  
  
He was always a bit shy about his art.  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, Louis stood in the dorm bathroom, bent over in front of the sink. He was digging some old shampoo bottles out from the very back of the cabinets, when he felt a soft touch against his hip. He let out a surprised yelp, spinning around.  
  
  
Harry stood before him, looking devastatingly casual in dark jeans and a simple white shirt. He smiled and lifted his arm in greeting and Louis quickly tucked himself underneath, inhaling the sexy, spicy scent of his cologne.  
  
  
Harry laughed, taken aback. “Missed me a bit?”

  
_  
_ Louis nodded, tilting his chin to look up at him. “Did you have any trouble finding our room?”  
  
  
Harry shook his head, rubbing his hand against the small of Louis’s back. “We just asked for directions. There were some unmatched subs hanging about downstairs. Think they were hoping to chat us up.”  
  
  
Louis furrowed his brow at that, his arms tightening slightly around Harry’s waist. He didn’t like other subs thinking they could have his dom.  
  
  
Harry gave an easy laugh, dropping a kiss to the top of Louis’s head. “Only want you,” he sing-songed. His hand slipped lower then, patting at Louis’s hip, _just_ above the curve of his arse. “I’ll prove that to you soon enough.”  
  
  
Louis did his best to suppress a shiver.  
  
  
While Zayn returned their keys to the admission’s office, Louis double-checked their dorm one last time, making sure they didn’t leave anything behind. He picked up his last remaining box, but Harry immediately took it off his hands, nodding towards the door.  
  
  
“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”  
  
  
  
A burgundy Range Rover was parked outside of the Academy gates, this time around. Louis wondered just how many different vehicles Liam and Harry must own. They loaded all of the boxes into the boot and climbed in, Zayn and Louis riding in the backseat together. It was clean and spacious inside, with an all black interior. Louis nudged Zayn with his elbow, pointing to the DVD player in the ceiling. They both lived in rather poor households growing up, so it didn’t take much to impress them, Louis supposed.  
  
  
“Fucking sick,” Zayn whispered. He pressed a button and a small television popped out, the screen glowing blue.  
  
  
Liam glanced at the backseat through the rearview mirror. “Forgot that thing was even in here. We’ve never used it before.”  
  
  
“Why’d you buy it if you don’t use it?” Zayn asked, testing out some of the controls.  
  
  
Liam shrugged. “It came with the car,” he said, making Zayn fondly roll his eyes.  
  
  
They started the drive into the next city, and it wasn’t long before Louis’s stomach started growling. He forgot to eat breakfast that morning. He reached his hand up to the passenger seat, touching Harry’s bicep.  
  
  
“Harry,” he said quietly.  
  
  
Harry glanced over his shoulder. “Hm?”  
  
  
“I'm hungry.”  
  
  
  
They got off at the next exit and stopped for lunch at a nearby café, sitting in a booth with Harry and Louis on one side, Zayn and Liam on the other. They chatted over a basket of warm bread until the waitress brought out their orders, Louis happily digging in to his spicy crab cakes and corn chowder.  
  
  
“Good?” Harry whispered down to him.  
  
  
Louis nodded. “Want some?”  
  
  
Harry smiled cheekily, opening his mouth, and Louis’s face warmed before gathering up some of the crab cake onto his fork, feeding it to him.  
  
  
Harry chewed thoughtfully and then nodded. “That is good.” Then he nudged his plate against Louis’s. “Bit of sweet potato?”  
  
  
Louis arched his brow. “What, you’re not going to feed it to me?” he taunted, reaching out to swipe up a forkful.  
  
  
Harry smiled, a glint in his eyes. “I would, but if your face turns any more red, we could fry bacon on it.”  
  
  
Louis scowled, his cheeks clearly still hot with a blush. They had been teasing (flirting?) with each other like this all throughout the meal, and Harry was quickly learning just how easy it was for Louis to become flustered by him. Louis, of course, was becoming increasingly annoyed with himself because of this. It was impossible to hide anything; his face and his fidgeting gave everything away. He pointedly ignored Harry as he nibbled at the sweet potato, but he could still feel his eyes on him, soft and fond, before his hand slid over to rest on Louis’s thigh under the table.  
  
  
While they waited for the check, Harry moved his hand, wrapping his arm around Louis’s middle instead. Louis easily gave in to the touch, leaning into his side. Across the table, Liam and Zayn were in a similar position, Liam’s fingertips absently tracing patterns along Zayn’s forearm. And Louis caught his friend’s eye, giving him a smile. Zayn kept his feelings to himself most of the time, but Louis could tell that he was just as excited for this as he was.  
  
  
  
By midafternoon, they made it to the house, passing through the iron gates before parking on the long, winding driveway. The first time Louis was here, Harry only gave him a tour of the downstairs of the house, and so, after the boxes were carried in, Louis followed Harry up the grand staircase, glancing around a bit timidly.  
  
  
There was a lounge area at the top of the landing, branching off into several different hallways. The left-wing of the house was considered to be Liam’s side, holding his office, some spare guest rooms, and the master bedroom he would be sharing with Zayn. The right side was Harry’s.  
  
  
Harry gave Louis a small tour of the different rooms, pushing the doors open so he could peer inside. They came across his office, and Louis gasped when he saw a large aquarium tank against the wall, housing dozens of colorful, tropical fish, the filter bubbling quietly. Some of the fish swam to the front of the tank when Louis stepped up, staring back at him curiously.  
  
  
Harry grinned. “They like you.”  
  
  
Louis looked up at him. “Can I feed them?”  
  
  
Harry nodded and handed him a little jar of fish flakes, showing Louis the proper amount to give. “No more than once a day, though,” Harry told him. “They’ll die if they’re overfed.”  
  
  
The rest of the office was made up of some looming bookshelves and file cabinets, a fax machine and a photo-printer. A large desk sat in the center, topped with a MacBook and a stack of papers, a leather armchair on wheels stationed behind it. Up against the wall nearest the door was a small sofa; the fabric crushed velvet and a deep, royal blue. It looked so comfortable Louis couldn’t resist sitting down.  
  
  
Harry watched him with a smile. “Comfy?”  
  
  
Louis nodded, brushing his palm along the cushions.  
  
  
“Good,” Harry said. “I just bought that, actually. Wanted you to have a place to sit. Y’know, if you’d ever wanna hang out in here while I’m working. Doesn’t sound like much fun, but,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
  
Louis just nodded, smiling when he looked up and caught Harry’s eye.  
  
  
Harry reached out for his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, then. More to see.”  
  
  
At the very end of the hallway were two double-doors, leading into the master bedroom. Louis’s eyes widened when he followed Harry inside. It was  _beautiful_. Plush white carpet and a fireplace up against one wall, adjacent to floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the back gardens, draped with thick curtains to block out the morning sun. A king bed was centered against the far wall, topped with a bunch of fluffy-looking pillows.  
  
  
“Bathroom’s over there,” Harry said then, gesturing to a door towards the back of the room. “This is my closet,” he said, crossing the floor, “and this is yours.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, peeking around the door. It was a spacious walk-in closet, with enough room to house several multiples of Louis’s current wardrobe. Harry had placed his moving boxes inside on the floor.  
  
  
When he was finished looking around, Louis stood before Harry, folding his hands in front of himself, not sure what to do next. He was very aware of their proximity to the bed. This is where he would be sleeping tonight—with Harry.  
  
  
His nerves flickered at the thought.  
  
  
“I have some work to finish up in my office,” Harry told him then. “Shouldn’t take too long, but in the meantime, you can unpack, yeah?”  
  
  
“Alright,” Louis nodded, lamenting just how out of place his tattered old things would look inside this ridiculously posh bedroom.  
  
  
Harry stepped closer, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “This is your house now, too. Make yourself at home, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nodded again with a small smile, and Harry left him alone. “Just come find me, if you need me,” he said, before tucking the door closed behind him.  
  
  
Louis sighed to himself, feeling a bit dazed. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t just an elaborate dream, or perhaps a cruel prank. But, amazingly, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of cruelty anywhere in Harry’s body.  
  
  
So he set to work, tucking socks and pants into the empty drawers of the wardrobe, and sliding shirts and coats onto wooden hangers. He stacked his shoes on the shoe rack, careful to keep everything neat and organized, even though he was used to being quite messy. Harry had said to make himself at home, but he still felt very much like an accidental guest who had somehow wandered in unannounced.  
  
  
He carried his bag of toiletries to the en-suite, cursing when he stepped onto the tile and flicked on the lights. Even the  _bathroom_  was massive, with a long mirror that stretched across one wall, two separate sinks, a bathtub with Jacuzzi jets (fuck’s sake), and a glass shower that was big enough to comfortably fit about ten people inside.  
  
  
Louis stacked his shampoo and conditioner bottles on the shelf in the shower, and slipped his toothbrush into the little cup by the sink. He spotted a bottle of Harry’s cologne and spritzed some into the air, taking a shameless whiff. He loved that scent.  
  
  
When he finished unpacking he sat down on the bed, looking around the room in slight disbelief. It still didn’t feel real, to think that he would be living here. This place was luxurious and opulent and beautiful – almost as beautiful as the man who lived in it – and Louis felt desperately plain in comparison.  
  
  
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a call to his mum. They had always been very close. The next half-hour was spent telling her all about his day and the new house, particularly the back gardens, which he knew she would appreciate the most.  
  
  
He stood with the phone pressed to his ear, his hand curled around a white curtain, looking out the bedroom window at the acres of land that made up the backyard, all held in by a tall privacy fence. “Think I spot some of those flowers you like, I’ll have to send a picture.”  
  
  
“…And what about Harry?” his mum eventually asked, a knowing smile in her voice.  
  
  
Louis grinned and bit his lip. “He’s good…he’s uhm…I really like him. Like, really.”  
  
  
She was quiet for a moment, and then he heard her sniffle. “I’m so happy for you, boo.”  
  
  
“ _Mum_ ,” he groaned, pushing away from the window. “Don’t  _cry_.”  
  
  
They hung up not long after that, Louis promising to keep in touch, as always.   
  
  
Afterwards, he wandered out of the bedroom and down the hall, feeling a little lost without Harry there to navigate him. The office door was cracked open and Louis paused outside of it, listening to the sound of keyboard clicks. He figured Harry must still be busy and kept walking, not wanting to disturb him.  
   
  
Downstairs, he found Zayn in the den, curled up on the couch with the television remote in his hand. “They’ve got like, two-thousand channels. And Netflix,” Zayn told him.  
  
  
Louis smiled, tucking himself on the other end of the couch. “Breaking Bad?”  
  
  
  
  
  
A few hours later, Harry and Liam came downstairs. Liam plopped down on the couch next to Zayn while Harry sat down on the opposite sofa, looking tired. Louis gave him a questioning look, not sure if he wanted him to come over or not. He still wasn’t sure how this whole ‘being in a relationship’ thing worked. But Harry was quick to meet his gaze and then smiled reassuringly, patting his thigh. Louis bit his lip and stood up, padding barefoot on the carpet as he made his way over. He was pulled down onto Harry’s lap, with a soft kiss pressed to his cheek.  
  
  
This was all very new to Louis, all of the cuddling and affection, having a go-to person to sit next to every time, a lap to curl up on. The last time they were here, Louis was straddling Harry, and they were kissing. Now, they’re watching TV, Harry’s arm looped around his middle. And it’s comfortable. Everything is new and starkly unfamiliar, but still so comfortable, somehow.  
  
  
No one is in the mood to cook, so they order pizza for dinner that night, pineapple and ham as Zayn requested, and deep-dish with cheese-stuffed crust and pepperonis for Louis. They spread the boxes out on the kitchen counter and eat in the dining room together, enjoying their first meal at home as a sort-of family.  
  
  
When they finish eating, Louis yawns, sated and full. Harry reaches out, taking his empty plate. “All done?”  
  
  
Louis nods, yawning again.  
  
  
“Tired?” Harry smiles. “You can go ahead up to bed, if you want. I’m just gonna clean up real quick.”  
  
  
“’kay,” Louis nods, waving a ‘goodnight’ to Zayn and Liam as he pads out of the kitchen.  
  
  
  
It doesn’t really sink in until moments later, when Louis is climbing the grand staircase, that he’s about to go to bed with Harry for the very first time. His feet falter embarrassingly on the steps at the thought, and suddenly, he’s feeling wide awake.  
  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” he mutters under his breath. He spends another second paused in mid-climb, before dashing up the last few steps and hurrying down the hall to the master bedroom.  
  
  
He throws the door open and makes a beeline for the en-suite, grabbing up his tooth brush to thoroughly wash the pizza taste from his mouth. Then he quickly strips out of his clothes, pulling on some joggers and an old cotton t-shirt, wondering if it’s possible for him to look any _less_ attractive right now. He pulls back the duvet with nervous hands and climbs under the sheets, not sure which side to sleep on, or which side is Harry’s. He’s never had to share a bed like this, before. He settles for somewhere in the middle, the mattress big enough to leave plenty of space on either side.  
  
  
And then he waits.  
  
  
  
… _Were they going to have sex tonight?_ Louis couldn’t see why not. It was practically protocol, as standard as anything (the term ‘consummation’ flashes involuntarily across his mind and he wrinkles his nose). He just hopes Harry won’t mind how sorely inexperienced he is in the matter. Maybe if he’s lucky they’ll do it with the lights off, so he won’t have to be naked in front of him, just yet. He lies back against the pillows, waiting and fidgeting and feeling _rather_ pathetic, hiding under the sheets like this.  
  
  
He audibly gulps when the door handle twists and Harry comes into the room, pulling it closed behind him. He gives Louis a smile but heads straight for the bathroom, and a moment later, Louis hears the shower turn on.  
  
  
The next fifteen minutes are spent with Louis panicking internally, fiddling with his phone to calm himself down. He gives up all attempts when the water shuts off again, followed by a short pause. Then the door to the en-suite opens and Harry strolls unabashedly back into the room, with nothing but a small towel slung low around his hips.  
  
  
Louis feels his face heat up and quickly averts his gaze, but not before catching a generous eyeful of Harry’s body.  
  
  
_Jesus_ , he’s fit. Long and lean, strong arms and a sculpted torso that’s still soft at the hips, stretches of pale skin scattered with several intricate tattoos, and fine hairs trailing down from his navel only to disappear under the towel. Drops of water roll down his chest, his hair still dripping wet at his shoulders. He steps into the walk-in closet and then comes back out in a pair of black boxer-briefs, not bothering with a shirt. He drags the towel through his hair a few times before tossing it into the hamper, combing the strands back from his face with his fingers.  
  
  
Then he turns towards the bed, and Louis forgets to breathe.  
  
  
Harry pulls back the duvet and climbs in beside him, smiling a little hesitantly, his eyes kind. “Hi,” he says.  
  
  
“Hi,” Louis whispers back, his voice annoyingly quiet. He tries to ignore the way Harry’s skin smells, warm and even more amazing than usual after his shower, practically radiating heat. Louis clears his throat. “Uhm, sorry. Wasn’t sure which side of the bed you normally sleep on,” he says, chuckling a bit, barely concealing his nerves.  
  
  
Harry shrugs and stretches his arm up, bracing his elbow against the pillow, his cheek against his palm. Louis can see the sparse hair under his arms, can smell his deodorant. “Doesn’t really matter, I usually wind up somewhere in the middle,” Harry says, scratching at his nose.  
  
  
Louis nods his head. He lies on his side, facing Harry, with both hands tucked under the pillow to keep himself from fidgeting. They stare at each other through a long stretch of quiet, the precursor to whatever happens next. Harry’s eyes are hooded and sleep-soft, a small smile playing at his lips. Louis tries to think of something else to say but comes up with nothing, his mind a useless ball of neurons, short-circuiting all at once. Instead, the silence gives them both away, the arm’s-length of distance between them simply asking to be closed.  
  
  
Harry is the one to move, of course, inevitably scooting closer. He reaches out a hand, as if he’s asking for permission, and Louis grants it by holding his gaze steady, unflinching.  
  
  
On the inside, his nerves are skyrockets taking flight.  
  
  
Harry’s hand cups his neck, his thumb delicate where it brushes at Louis’s cheek. He leans in and presses his lips to his forehead, trailing kisses down the bridge of his nose, until he reaches his lips. It’s all soft and so very gentle, making Louis feel even more fragile under Harry’s palm. He kisses back, his pulse still stuttering weakly as Harry coaxes his lips apart, nipping affectionately. Louis sucks in a breath, but it feels like he can’t quite catch it, anxiety rising like the tide.  
  
  
Harry pulls away then, carefully searching his face in the dark. “You okay?” he whispers, and it’s _so_ quiet.  
  
  
Louis just nods.  
  
  
Harry’s brow furrows in concern, his hand against Louis’s cheek, “…you’re shaking.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I'm – are you going to fuck me?”  
  
  
Harry’s brow practically rises to his hairline at that, and Louis immediately pushes away and buries his face in his pillow, his cheeks on fire, mortified. “Shit – sorry, that was…god, just – just forget I said that,” he mutters, his voice muffled.  
  
  
At a total loss, Harry watches him, his hand still suspended in midair. “Louis…you don’t have to be _embarrassed_ …”  
  
  
Louis just shakes his head with a groan, still miserably hiding his face.  
  
  
The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up then, hopelessly endeared. “You’re not the only one who’s nervous, you know.”  
  
  
Louis turns those words over in his head a bit, before finally lifting his cheek, peeking sideways at Harry.  
  
  
Harry cards a hand up through his hair, still damp from the shower. Then he glances down at the bed, looking contemplative. “The other day, when we were in the den…you said you hadn’t really kissed anyone before…” he begins.  
  
  
Louis nods, signaling for Harry to continue, although he has a feeling he knows where this heading.  
  
  
“Does that mean you…?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly and nods again. “I’m still a virgin, yeah.”  
  
  
Harry nods sagely. “And…you’ve never done anything else, either?” he asks. There’s no judgment or apprehension in his voice, just a careful need to understand.  
  
  
Louis nods in confirmation, his face hot. “Erm, is that – does that, like, bother you?”  
  
  
Harry tilts his head. “Why would it bother me?”  
  
  
Louis’s brow furrows, thinking the answer should be obvious. “Because I’m not…” he sighs heavily, frustrated with himself. His hands fist in the pillow. “I won’t really know what I’m _doing_ and like…let’s face it, there’s nothing attractive about someone who practically passes out just from being _kissed_.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, his eyes glinting in the dark. “I really beg to differ.”  
  
  
“Harry,” Louis sighs again, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to, like, hold my hand through every little thing, and that’s – it will be annoying.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, leaning in to kiss Louis’s temple. “Not true.”  
  
  
“You say that _now_ ,” Louis retorts.  
  
  
“And I’ll still say it then,” Harry muses. “But honestly Louis, I just wanted to kiss you a bit. We don’t have to do anything ‘til you’re comfortable.”  
  
  
Louis worries at his lip. He can only imagine how experienced Harry is. He probably isn’t used to holding back, or having to wait. It will probably get old and tiresome, and _fast_. “…Are you sure?”  
  
  
“’m very sure,” Harry nods, kissing his cheek. “I don’t mind taking it slow. And I won’t mind ‘holding your hand’ through things,” he pauses, and then adds as an afterthought, “…kind of like the sound of that, actually.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, blushing a bit.  
  
  
Harry smiles, leaning in for one more soft, chaste kiss. “Let’s just get some sleep, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods and watches as Harry fluffs his pillow into place with a yawn, pulling the sheets up over his torso. Louis rolls onto his side, his back to Harry. He isn’t sure if he likes to cuddle in bed or not and wants to give him space, just in case.  
  
  
Seconds later, he grins when an arm circles around his middle, tugging him back against a warm chest.  
  
  
“Sorry,” Harry whispers, pressing a kiss behind his ear, “is it okay if I cuddle you?”  
  
  
Louis nods, loving how small he feels in Harry’s arms. “Mhm.”  
  
  
Harry noses at the hair at the back of his head. “Think you’ll like living here?”  
  
  
Louis nods again. “Never been anywhere so nice,” he whispers, “…’m really happy.”  
  
  
Harry yawns against his shoulder. “Me too, baby.”  
  
  
Louis bites back a grin at the name. _Baby_.  
  
  
Harry smirks, “…you like when I call you that?”  
  
  
Louis nods, and Harry presses one last kiss behind his ear. “Alright, then. G’night, baby.”  
  
  
“Night, Harry.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two hours later, Louis wakes up to something poking against his bum. Something warm and stiff and—  
  
  
_Oh_.  
  
  
His eyes widen, coming fully awake. Harry still has an arm held loosely around his waist, and Louis peeks over his shoulder at him. He’s breathing deeply, his eyes closed, sound asleep and blissfully unaware that his hard dick is currently nestled against Louis’s arse.  
  
  
Louis lies very still, unsure of what to do. He’s never been in this kind of situation before. He isn’t used to any dick that isn’t his own, much less one that’s hard. That thought resonates with Louis more than anything—Harry is _hard_.  
  
  
Louis knows it would probably be best to move away but, truthfully – _shamefully_ – he’s sort of…curious. Moving on pure impulse, he arches his back and tilts his hips, pushing himself back against Harry’s erection. He feels the weight of it, pressed right up against his arse.  
  
  
It’s…big.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, suddenly feeling a little warm under his collar. He can’t help but to shift his hips a few times, wiggling experimentally against Harry’s dick. Harry’s breath actually hitches, and Louis decides he really likes that sound. Wanting to hear more, he grinds back against him a little harder, and almost immediately, Harry’s arm tightens its hold on him. Louis freezes in place and looks back at him, expecting to find Harry’s eyes open and watching him, but he’s still asleep, his brow knitted together now. His hips have started to pump forward subconsciously, searching for relief in his sleep.  
  
  
Louis lies still, his lip held between his teeth, becoming more and more flustered as Harry slowly drags his hips against him, panting softly into the back of his neck. His dick rubs up against the curve of Louis’s arse and he lets out a tiny, frustrated little groan that makes Louis’s temperature spike.  
  
  
He hears the exact moment when Harry wakes. There’s a sharp inhale, followed by an abrupt halt of his movements. Slowly, Louis peeks over his shoulder at him again. Confused, Harry glances down to where they’re pressed together at the hips, before looking back at Louis apologetically.  
  
  
“Sorry,” Harry chuckles, his voice rough with sleep. “Must have been a good dream.” He puts some space between them, wincing as he adjusts himself.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, feeling guilty. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers, keeping his back to Harry. “I…when I woke up I started to, like…move against you,” he admits, his cheeks burning.  
  
  
Harry quirks his brow and then laughs, low and warm. “That’s naughty, love,” he muses, gently. “What happened to the timid boy I fell asleep with earlier?”  
  
  
Louis bites back a smirk, “…he woke up with you pressed against his arse.”  
  
  
A beat of silence follows his words, and there’s a definite tension in the air now. All traces of sleep have evaporated. Louis scoots backward, seeking Harry out again, and Harry stills, reluctant to touch. “Er – I should probably wait until this goes down a bit,” he laments, glancing at his crotch.  
  
  
But Louis doesn’t want that. His curiosity is sufficiently piqued. He doesn’t want to stop touching, testing waters he’s never stepped in before. But Harry is hesitant, of course, holding back and letting Louis set the pace, so he doesn’t move too fast for him. Louis knows if he wants something, he’s going to have to ask for it.  
  
  
The trouble is, he doesn’t know how.  
  
  
So, in a rare moment of bravery, he turns around to face Harry. He wraps his arms around his middle in a hug, pressing himself in close. He feels Harry hug him back, uncertain, careful to keep their groins apart so he doesn’t poke Louis with his erection. Louis buries his face in his chest. And then, slowly, he nudges his hips forward, until he’s pressed against Harry’s thigh.  
  
  
Harry freezes, his breath catching in his throat, “…you’re hard,” he whispers, a dawning realisation.  
  
  
Louis nods against his chest, face hot with embarrassment. “I won’t be able to sleep like this…” he whispers.  
  
  
That gives Harry pause. With his ear against his chest, Louis can hear the beat of Harry’s heart, getting louder. It’s comforting in a way, to know that maybe he’s not the only one who’s nervous. “You – ” Harry swallows audibly, trying to make sense of Louis’s signals. “…you want me to get you off?”  
  
  
“Yeah, like,” Louis nods, his eyes clenched shut, still hiding against Harry’s chest, “…I mean, only if you want to…”  
  
  
“Look at me,” Harry whispers then, pulling back. His eyes search Louis’s face in the dark, carefully. “Are you sure?”  
  
  
Louis nods, “’m sure.” There’s a battle going on inside of him: his stuttering, anxious nerves versus his own hopelessly curious desire, still stiff between his legs. He feels so fucking _jittery_ , he can hardly keep still. “Just, uhm. Not – not too much, but just…” he trails off, frustrated, unable to figure out exactly what it is that he wants, much less put it into words. He just wants _something_.  
  
  
Somehow, Harry understands. He nods his head as he studies Louis’s face. “I know,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Just – I need you to tell me if you want to stop, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, a little breathless, and this is happening, whatever this is.  
  
  
They lay side-by-side, facing each other in the dark. A half-moon and a handful of stars is their only source of light, creeping in through the window to fall across the bed. Harry has a hand curled around Louis’s jaw, featherlight, and the nerves Louis feels in his belly must be written all over his face, because Harry gives him a reassuring smile, thumb brushing at his cheekbone.  
  
  
Not a moment too soon, Harry leans in, closing the distance to bring their lips together. Louis tilts his chin up into it, elated to be given something to put his energy into. If he lies still any longer, his limbs may break with the urge to move.  
  
  
And then Harry’s kissing him, as if he’s been waiting his entire life to kiss Louis like this, a slow build, reveling in each brush of lips and mouth. It’s gentle, and it’s wet, and Louis’s skin is on fire. His hands are curled into fists between them, limp and useless against the mattress. Harry still doesn’t have a shirt on, and there’s so much warm, bare skin Louis isn’t sure where to touch. This is all so new.  
  
  
He practically melts into the mattress when Harry starts to suck on his bottom lip, light little nibbles with his teeth that have goosebumps sprouting up at the nape of Louis’s neck. It’s a good thing they’re lying down, because Louis’s knees are beginning to buckle, while blood pumps _straight_ to his groin. His dick is even harder now, left neglected and untouched between them. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever needed to come so badly in his life. It’s never been like this, before. He’s getting antsy, overly eager and impatient, and he thinks maybe Harry has noticed it too, because he’s smiling against his lips.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss to check on him, nosing at his cheek. “You alright?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, brushing their lips together again. He doesn’t want Harry to stop kissing him.  
  
  
Harry takes it as a go-ahead, kissing Louis harder now, licking into his mouth a lot less than innocently. Louis kisses back, and he can feel himself shaking again, either with nerves or excitement. Maybe a little of both. He isn’t sure, and doesn’t really care either way.  
  
  
Harry’s hand starts to move, trailing down from Louis’s neck to settle on his hip, rubbing at the soft bit of skin there, the ghost of a love-handle under Louis’s t-shirt. His fingers skirt across his belly, exploring, feeling, drifting even lower. Louis knows exactly where he’s heading. His skin is thrumming with the anticipation of it.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss again, keeping their faces close and watching Louis carefully. And then he slides his hand between Louis’s legs, and cups his dick through his joggers.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen. He was expecting this to happen, but he still isn’t ready for how nice it feels when Harry touches his cock. He brushes his fingertips over it, tracing gentle little patterns before he cups it with his palm again, shaping it out through the cotton, just holding, touching. Louis’s never been touched like this before. Somehow, even through his clothes, Harry’s hand feels a thousand times better on him than his own hand ever did and – _fuck_.  
  
  
Harry gives his dick a tiny squeeze and a shudder wracks through Louis’s body, something close to a whimper dying in the back of his throat. Why does it feel so _good?_  
  
  
Harry kisses his cheek. “This okay?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, barely listening. It’s hard to focus on anything other than Harry’s hand cupping him.  
  
  
Harry noses at his cheek some more. “You’re so hard,” he whispers approvingly, fingertips circling over the head.  
  
  
Louis bites down painfully on his lip. He’s – fuck, he’s _already_ close to coming. If Harry doesn’t stop touching him, this will all be over _embarrassingly_ soon.  
  
  
Fortunately, Harry pulls his hand away then, but Louis still can’t help but whine at the loss of touch. Harry kisses him quiet and then kicks the covers off of them both, tipping Louis back onto the bed.  
  
  
Louis lies back against the pillows, watching as Harry crawls up and kneels between his parted thighs, with both knees planted on the mattress. Moonlight falls over Harry’s torso, and Louis counts his tattoos: twin swallows, a butterfly, laurels splayed out over his hips. Then his gaze drops automatically to the rather impressive bulge at the front of Harry’s briefs, the cotton stretched tight around it. Louis pinches his fingers in the bed sheets to keep himself from fidgeting.  
  
  
Harry reaches out, placing both hands on either of Louis’s thighs. He bites his lip, tugging lightly at the pantleg of Louis’s joggers. “Is it okay if I take these off? Just the joggers?”  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry smiles, slipping his fingers under the waistband while Louis lifts his hips, letting him drag the joggers down over his thighs. He feels more naked than he’s ever been, left in nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of blue briefs, his dick poking out at the front, wanting attention. He’s thankful for the look in Harry’s eyes, so soft and trustworthy it’s able to soothe all of those anxious nerves in his stomach.  
  
  
He wants Harry to touch him some more.  
  
  
Harry does, taking Louis’s thighs in his hands before wrapping them up around his waist. He leans forward then, hovering over Louis, lying down between his legs. They’ve never been this close before. Harry shifts slightly, and then Louis feels it – Harry’s _cock_ , big and hard and pressing back against his own through their briefs.  
  
  
Louis grips at the sheets, bracing himself, but he’s hardly prepared for it when Harry starts to rock his hips, dragging his cock against Louis’s in a slow, constant, back-and-forth rhythm. And suddenly, there’s some fucking amazing friction against Louis’s dick.  
  
  
Louis’s mouth falls open, a tiny puff of air escaping. He stares up at Harry, wide-eyed and innocent, his lashes fluttering a bit because _Jesus_ , that feels good.  
  
  
Harry watches him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This alright?”  
  
  
Louis sucks in a breath and nods, thoroughly distracted. “Yeah, just – I might not last very long,” he mutters, his cheeks warm. His lack of experience couldn’t be any more obvious.  
  
  
Luckily, Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He shakes his head, kissing him again. “s’okay.”  
  
  
Harry keeps kissing him, but Louis can barely manage to kiss back, he’s breathing so shallowly, completely overwhelmed. Unperturbed, Harry ducks his head and starts going at Louis’s neck instead, sucking at his pulse.  
  
  
It’s practically sensory overload, a hot mouth against his throat and his dick being rubbed in the best possible way Louis’s ever felt in his life. He can actually feel Harry’s cock twitching eagerly where it’s pressed against his own. Harry’s breathing is starting to pick up and he just keeps grinding into Louis, hard and slow, each back and forth drag sending something white-hot and pleasant straight up Louis’s pine.  
  
  
“Shit,” Louis whispers, his hands coming up to grip at Harry’s biceps.  
  
  
Harry presses a kiss behind his ear. “Does that feel good?” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.  
  
  
Louis can only bite his lip and nod, trying desperately to hold back a moan. It’s embarrassing how affected he is by this.  
  
  
“m’gonna move a little faster now, that okay?”  
  
  
When Louis nods his head, Harry’s arms wrap around his back, holding him close and keeping him still. And then he starts to buck his hips, hard and fast.  
  
  
“Oh – _oh, fuck_ ,” Louis whispers, overwhelmed.  
  
  
Louis can feel precome blurting out from his slit – the front of their briefs are stained with it, the thin material wet between them. Harry is absolutely rutting against him now, holding him tight against his cock and panting into his neck, kissing and sucking at the skin there.  
  
  
Louis’s hips cant up from the bed, chasing that feeling, knocking hard into Harry’s, and Harry exhales shakily, grinding back.  
  
  
“Fuck – yeah, that’s it,” Harry murmurs, “grind up against me, just like that.”  
  
  
It will be a miracle if Louis lasts another ten seconds – he bites down hard on his lip and tries desperately not to come. This is the greatest thing he’s ever felt in his life and he doesn’t want it to end so soon. But damnit, Harry isn’t making things easy for him with the way he’s mouthing at his throat, letting out little groans of approval, and his cock is so _hard_ where it’s rubbing against Louis’s, making him feel so fucking good.  
  
  
“Baby,” Harry whispers, kissing below his ear, and Louis is done for. Without warning, his hips cant up from the bed, and with a yelp of surprise, he’s coming between them, his thighs shaking with it and his mouth falling open on a whimper.  
  
  
Harry slows his hips but doesn’t pull away, just keeps kissing gently at Louis’s neck. Louis squeezes his eyes shut, his cheeks flaming with a blush. He can’t believe he just came that fast – he ruined everything, and it’s _mortifying_. “Shit,” he whispers, “I – sorry.”  
  
  
Harry pulls back to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to apologise.”  
  
  
Louis keeps shaking his head, embarrassed, and Harry kisses him quiet, gentle and reassuring. “I like the sounds you make,” he whispers between kisses, and Louis can feel his heart, stuttering weakly inside his chest. He kisses back, parting his lips to let Harry lick inside. Harry does, tentatively, and Louis can feel how turned on he is, not having come yet.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss, sliding his hand down to cup his own dick through his pants, wincing a bit. “Sorry – is it okay if I…?”  
  
  
Louis blushes. “No, go ahead.”  
  
  
He watches as Harry slides a hand inside his briefs, and then he ducks his head again, kissing Louis while he tugs on his cock. And Louis feels so incredibly flustered because _Harry is jerking off_ , and he can hear the slight slapping noise of his hand against his dick, and the soft, needy sounds he keeps making into Louis’s mouth and – fuck, that’s hot. Louis knows he’d be hard again in an instant if he hadn’t just gotten off.  
  
  
Even though he proved to be rather useless in bed, he wants to make this good for Harry. He reaches up his hands and threads his fingers through his hair, tugging on it a bit, remembering the way that made Harry groan on the couch. Harry’s hand speeds up at that and he kisses Louis harder, breaking the kiss on a gasp.  
  
  
Louis has picked up on a few things so far, like how good it feels to have your neck kissed, so he leans in and presses his lips to Harry’s throat, near his earlobe. Harry groans appreciatively, and then his hand is slapping loudly against his cock, until he’s panting shallowly. “Fuck,” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis really likes that. He sucks at a warm bit of skin below Harry’s ear, his tongue darting out to lick at him, listening closely for each and every reaction. He feels hot all over from the little moans Harry lets out, the way his bicep keeps flexing while he pumps his cock. Louis sort of wishes he would take his briefs off so he could get a better look – wants to really _see_ him, but he doesn’t say it, just keeps suckling at his neck.  
  
  
Harry’s hips begin to stutter, fucking up into his hand, and then his body jolts with a low, drawn-out groan, and Louis knows he’s just come.  
  
  
He pulls his hand out, and it’s wet when he wipes it on his briefs.  
  
  
  
Afterwards, they slip into their closets to change into clean clothes and then climb back into bed, facing each other in the dark. Harry has his brow knitted together, watching Louis carefully. “Erm, was that okay?” he eventually asks, hesitant and unsure.  
  
  
Louis nods his head, smiling a little shy.  
  
  
“I didn’t like, go too far, did I?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “no,” he whispers. “I…really liked that,” he admits, his face warm.  
  
  
Harry smiles, lifting his arm. “Can I cuddle you, again? I promise not to get hard.”  
  
  
Louis laughs and shakes his head, scooting backwards to tuck himself under Harry’s arm. “I won’t mind.”  
  
  
And Harry smiles against his neck, pressing a kiss behind his ear.  
  



	4. Mirror, Mirror

Louis had been experiencing a lot of ‘firsts’ lately.  
  
  
Case in point, last night was the first time he had ever had his dick touched. Today, he would be swimming in an indoor pool for the first time. All in all, some rather pleasant experiences. And Louis wondered, through a series of brainstorming that he kept exclusively to himself, exactly which ‘first’ he would be experiencing next.  
  
  
When Liam and Harry had gone to work that morning, Louis and Zayn were left alone and unsupervised in a mansion, ready to explore. They skipped breakfast and slipped on their swim trunks, heading downstairs to the poolroom. It was dimly lit inside, and smelled strongly of chlorine. The perimeter was covered with tile and a few reclining deck chairs, with a shower stall in the corner beside a rack of clean towels. The pool itself was a rectangle in the center of the room, the water glowing turquoise.  
  
  
Louis dove right into the deep-end while Zayn opted for the steps, testing the temperature first. They swam a few laps before eventually wading in the shallow-end, leaned with their backs against the inner wall of the pool, the water level with their chests. They stood side by side, their shoulders pressed together, watching the surface ripple. It was quiet. Quiet and still. Their voices seemed to carry across the water, echoing off the tile. They spoke in whispers even though there was no one around to hear, and it wasn’t long before the conversation turned to a hushed, private discussion of what their first night in bed with Harry and Liam was like.  
  
  
Zayn went first, of course, telling Louis unabashedly that Liam had fingered him and then fucked his thighs. Louis listened quietly, nodding his head. He had never heard of thigh-fucking before, but allowed his imagination to fill in the blanks.  
  
  
When Zayn had finished, he nudged Louis with his shoulder. “What about you and Harry?”  
  
  
Louis sighed. “Well…we weren’t going to do anything at first, because I’m pathetic.”  
  
  
Zayn quirked his brow, staring straight ahead at the water. It was easier to talk about these things when you didn’t make eye contact. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “Was so nervous I started  _shaking_  the second he climbed into bed.” He scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “So, he said we would wait until I was – erm, more comfortable, and we went to sleep.” He paused, thinking, “…and then I woke up a few hours later, and he was hard against my arse.”  
  
  
Zayn smirked. “Who could blame him?”  
  
  
Louis rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a bit. He  _did_  have a great arse.  
  
  
“Then what?” Zayn asked.  
  
  
Louis felt his cheeks warm, remembering. “I started to like, push back against him? Until he woke up. Then he realised I was hard, too, so he rolled on top of me and – and we got off like that. Through our pants.”  
  
  
“So dry humping,” Zayn supplied.  
  
  
_Is that what that was?_ Louis nodded his head, and after a moment, he spoke up again. “I, uhm…I think you were right, though.”  
  
  
Zayn yawned. “About what?”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip. “What you said about Harry’s hands being big.” He cleared his throat, staring resolutely at the water. “I mean, I haven’t  _seen_  it yet, but…I could feel it.”  
  
  
Zayn’s head tipped back on a full laugh, and Louis knocked their shoulders together. “Don’t laugh at me, you dick.”  
  
  
Still, Louis felt grateful that he had a friend like Zayn to talk about this kind of stuff with. Especially because Zayn was more comfortable when it came to sex, and didn’t judge Louis or make him feel stupid for asking questions. But as comfortable as Louis felt with Zayn, he still couldn’t bring himself to ask him about the one thing in particular that had been weighing on his mind the most…the fact that he wanted to call Harry  _Daddy_. It was too weird to admit out loud, he felt too ashamed.  
  
  
And yet, simply  _thinking_  about that word had him remembering the night before in a flood of sights and sounds…Harry wrapped up in his thighs, rutting against him…Harry’s low voice in his ear, murmuring praises and instructions… _Grind up against me, just like that.  
  
  
_ A familiar heat was spreading over Louis’s skin. He pushed away from the wall and sank back into the pool, dousing himself with cold water.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
A week passed, and while Louis was becoming more and more comfortable and settled in, he still wasn’t used to living in the lap of luxury like this. It took him completely by surprise when Harry came home from work one afternoon with a brand new rose gold edition MacBook for Louis, handing it to him as casually as one would with the morning paper. Louis had never been gifted anything so expensive. He wasn’t even sure if simply saying ‘thank you’ would be enough.  
  
  
Soon after, he sat on the couch in Harry’s office with the MacBook perched on his lap, testing out all the different settings and preferences. He surfed the web for a while, and checked his e-mail. Meanwhile, Harry sat behind his desk in the middle of the room, staring intently at a bit of paperwork. His button-up top was partially opened and his hair a mess of disheveled curls, as if he had been running his hands through it a lot. He looked gorgeous. Gorgeous and stressed. So Louis kept quiet, not wanting to bother him.  
  
  
Harry took a few phone calls, strictly business, and Louis couldn’t help but listen in. It sounded like he was planning for some kind of meeting.  
  
  
“…Is he available for Wednesday?...Right…Friday’s no good, I’ll be out of town until late Saturday…We could try next Tuesday?”  
  
  
Louis froze, listening carefully…Harry was going out of town? He frowned and set his MacBook aside, suddenly feeling a bit crestfallen. He loved this house, but he definitely wasn’t excited about being left here without Harry.  
  
  
A voice in the back of his head hissed at him, _you’re way too clingy_.  
  
  
A few minutes later, Harry hung up the phone. It was quiet again, except for the sound of keyboard clicks. And then, “Louis?”  
  
  
Louis flinched, pulled from his thoughts. He glanced up from his lap to find Harry looking at him.  
  
  
Harry smiled, his eyes tired. “C’mere.”  
  
  
Louis got up from the couch and crossed the floor. Harry was still sitting in his chair, but he had pushed back from the desk a bit. He pulled Louis easily down onto his lap, sliding an arm around his middle. Louis burrowed happily against his chest, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder.  
  
  
“’S been a busy day,” Harry yawned, pressing a kiss to Louis’s hair. “How’s the MacBook? Figure everything out okay?”  
  
  
Louis nodded. “It’s a little confusing, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”  
  
  
“I’ve had mine for a while so I can help you, if you need it.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” Louis said, quietly. “Again.”  
  
  
Harry hummed, twisting his fingers around the hair at the nape of Louis’s neck. “Your hair is so soft, baby,” he murmured.  
  
  
Louis hid a smile against Harry’s collarbone. “I used your shampoo.”  
  
  
Harry nodded. “I can tell. You smell like me, now,” he said, nosing at his scalp.  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, tracing his fingertip along the koi fish pattern of Harry’s button-up. “…Harry?” he whispered after a moment.  
  
  
“Hm?”  
  
  
“Are you – uhm, sorry for listening in, but are you going somewhere?”  
  
  
Harry nodded his head. “On Friday.”  
  
  
“Oh,” Louis muttered, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.  
  
  
Harry chuckled. “Why? You don’t want me to leave?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head.  
  
  
“I know,” Harry lamented, rubbing soft circles against his back, “…that’s why I’m taking you with me.”  
  
  
Louis hadn’t considered that. He quirked his brow, pulling away from where he was tucked under Harry’s chin to see his face. “Wha - really?”  
  
  
Harry smiled, nodding his head. “Yup, we’re going to London. Unless you’d rather stay here, of course.”  
  
  
Louis laughed and shook his head. “No way, I’m going.”  
  
  
Harry chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a work thing. Might be really boring.”  
  
  
Louis just shook his head again. He never felt bored around Harry.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Friday morning found the four of them on a train, sitting together in one of the cozy private compartments, bustling along on the tracks.  
  
  
They ordered tea and pastries from the passing trolley, and then Liam and Harry had some paperwork to discuss so Louis put his headphones in. It wasn’t long before his eyes grew heavy, lulled by the motions of the train. He lay down across the seat, tucking his hands under his head to use as a pillow. He smiled when Harry gently pulled him closer, letting him rest his head in his lap. Harry took off his coat then, draping it over Louis for warmth. He fell asleep just like that, nuzzled against Harry’s thigh.  
  
  
A few hours later, he woke up in London.  
  
  
They checked into one of the most palatial hotels in town, the lobby glittering in marble and gold. They booked two of the penthouse suites on the topmost floor, twenty-two stories high. Louis placed his suitcase in the closet and sat on the bed, staring curiously around the lavish room while Harry took a shower. He stepped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later in some nice trousers, shrugging into one of his button-up tops.  
  
  
Louis watched him from his place on the bed. “Harry?”  
  
  
“Hm?” he asked, stepping into his shoes.  
  
  
“Where are you going?”  
  
  
“Liam and I are going out to dinner with a client,” he explained, slipping a Rolex around his wrist. He looked back at Louis apologetically. “I’d take you with us, but it’s business.”  
  
  
Louis shrugged, “s’okay.”  
  
  
Harry moved to stand in front of him then. “The client is a CEO of a neighbouring company, but she’s in very bad debt. If we can persuade her to let us buy out her hotels, we increase our locations nationwide.”  
  
  
“Er – that’s a good thing, right?” Louis asked to be sure. He never really understood Liam and Harry’s business-talk.  
  
  
Harry smiled. “A very good thing. If the deal goes through, the four of us are going out to celebrate afterwards, so I want you to get ready just in case, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nodded, following after Harry as he walked out of the bedroom. He grabbed his wallet and phone from the desk, tucking them into his pockets on his way to the door. Then he turned back to Louis.  
  
  
Harry lifted his arm, pulling him into a hug. “Should be back by ten o’clock at the latest.”  
  
  
Louis breathed in his cologne, nodding his head. “Okay.”  
  
  
“Are you hungry?”  
  
  
Louis shrugged. “A little.”  
  
  
“Go ahead and order room service. Get whatever you want, it will be charged to the room. You can hang out with Zayn while I’m gone, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nodded again, nuzzling against his chest. “Good luck,” he whispered.  
  
  
Harry smiled down at him. “Thank you.”  
  
  
Then he kissed him slow and sweet before heading out, the door clicking shut behind him.

  
  
  
It was lonely in the penthouse without Harry, the rooms silent and still and unfamiliar. Louis took a shower and styled his hair into a fringe just in case, just like Harry told him. He pulled on a t-shirt and joggers for the meantime, not yet sure what to wear.  
  
  
It wasn’t long before Zayn came knocking at the door. He was sharing the penthouse down the hall with Liam. They ordered room service, a lasagne bake with calamari and some type of crème-filled croissants for desert. They spread the platters out on the dining table and dug in, conspiring about where they might be going out to later.  
  
  
They ordered a movie on pay-per-view and waited around the suite for a few hours, until Harry and Liam finally returned. Louis was relieved to see a wide grin on Harry’s face.

  
  
“It’s done!” he announced.  
  
  
Louis congratulated him, giggling as Harry wrapped him up in a hug that lifted him off his feet, spinning him around. He set him back down and patted his bum, making Louis jump. “Get dressed, love. We’re going out.”  
  
  
Louis hurried to the closet. He pulled the outfits he had packed out of his suitcase and laid them across the bed, weighing his options. Meanwhile, Harry stripped out of his fancy clothes, swapping them out for a sheer top and some tight black jeans. He dug a bottle of champagne out of the minifridge, popping the cork and pouring two glasses. He handed one to Louis.  
  
  
“Oh, thanks,” Louis murmured, taking a sip. He had never drank alcohol before. “Uhm, Harry? What should I wear?”  
  
  
Harry drained his glass and hummed in thought, surveying the choices. “I like this shirt,” he said, pointing to the baby blue button-up. “Matches your eyes.”  
  
  
Louis nodded with a small smile and slipped into the bathroom to change. He still hadn’t taken his clothes off in front of Harry yet and was nervous about being naked in front of him.  
  
  
  
  
  
When they were all dressed and ready to go, a driver collected them from the hotel, taking them downtown into the city. They ended up at one of the high-end clubs that only socialites and the wealthy elite could get into, and Louis wondered when the hell this became his life.  
  
  
It was dark inside the club, lit up mostly by strobe lights that were suspended from the ceiling, throwing twisted shapes and shadows across the walls. Music blared from where a DJ was set up on the main stage, the bass pulsing rhythmically through several speakers. In the center below was a massive dance floor, crowded with the tangled limbs and gyrating bodies of the clubgoers.  
  
  
They veered to the left and climbed a winding staircase. Harry kept an arm around Louis’s waist the whole time so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. When they reached the upper level of the club, they found a bar and sitting area, made up of a few private booths and small tables that were cluttered with couches and squashy armchairs. It was dark up here, too; the lights glowed dimly in shades of aquamarine and fuchsia. The four of them slid into an empty booth, and Liam waved over one of the waitresses.  
  
  
Harry was already a bit pink-cheeked and tipsy from the champagne he drank back at the hotel, but he ordered a round of drinks, in the mood to celebrate. The waitress reappeared moments later with a tray filled with shots, all rainbow-coloured. Harry chose the pink shot and slid the blue one to Louis, who looked down at it apprehensively.  
  
  
“Uhm,” he said, “what is this, exactly?”  
  
  
“It’s just food colouring,” Liam told him, choosing the red shot for himself. “But they’re all the same thing. Mango vodka.”  
  
  
Louis nodded and then turned to Harry, tugging on his sleeve. “I’ve never drank, before.”  
  
  
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love,” Harry told him, knocking back his own shot with ease.  
  
  
Louis picked up his shot glass, curious. “How do I—?”  
  
  
“Don’t sip it, just tilt your head and pour it back.”  
  
  
Louis followed his instruction, taking a deep breath before raising his glass. The liquor burned his throat a bit on the way down, deceptively sweet and sugary, but it wasn’t as bad as he expected. He shivered a bit, setting the empty glass on the table.  
  
  
“How was it?” Harry asked, leaning in close so Louis could hear him over the noise.  
  
  
Louis licked his lips. “Not bad, actually. Warm.”  
  
  
Zayn downed the purple shot like a pro, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. “You had better keep an eye on him,” he said to Harry with an obvious nod in Louis’s direction. “I’d bet you anything he’s a lightweight.”  
  
  
Louis tutted indignantly, and Harry smiled. “I would imagine so, given his size.”  
  
  
Louis scowled up at him then, mock offended. “Well _excuse_ me, we can’t all be born with giraffe legs, you know,” he simpered, poking at Harry’s thigh.  
  
  
Harry laughed and wrapped an arm around his middle, pulling him closer. “I like that you’re small. ‘s cute.”  
  
  
Louis wrinkled his nose in protest, and Harry kissed his hair.  
  
  
They chatted and ordered more rounds, and Louis took two more shots before he cut himself off, afraid of getting sick. He had a feeling that what Zayn and Harry said was true—he probably _was_ a lightweight.  
  
  
Their eyes became glassy, their voices steadily rising, shouting at each other over the music. Once the liquor properly kicked in, Liam pulled Zayn out to the dance floor, tipsy and giggling as they stumbled down the stairs and weaved through the crowd. Meanwhile, Louis was learning a valuable lesson about Harry: he became  _very_  clingy and affectionate when he was drunk.  
  
  
As they sat tucked in the booth, Harry could barely keep his hands to himself for more than a few seconds, touching Louis all over, rubbing his thighs and squeezing at his hips, nuzzling indulgently against his neck, parted lips catching on the skin. Louis flushed with pleasure at all of the attention, slightly overwhelmed.  
  
  
“Y’know, I’m beginning to suspect that  _you_ are a lightweight, as well,” Louis told him.  
  
  
Harry’s lips turned up with a grin. “Seems like a fair assessment, yeah,” he whispered, his words melting together a bit at the ends. He paused then, cautiously pulling back. “Sorry – are you – should I stop?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head and tugged Harry back, curling up close against his side again. Truthfully, he was loving the attention.  
  
  
Harry hummed and petted at Louis’s hip, ducking down to kiss behind his ear. “Will you dance with me?” he murmured.  
  
  
“…I don’t really know how to dance,” Louis admitted.  
  
  
Harry just shrugged. “Neither do I.”  
  
  
So, Louis shrugged back and then followed Harry out of the booth, their hands linked tight together. It was hot on the dance floor, a sea of bodies and movement, shouting and laughter. The music played an ever-changing rhythmic beat while the strobe lights spun wildly from above, dizzying.  
  
  
Louis looked to Harry for guidance, yelling over the music. “What do I do?”  
  
  
Harry glanced around and yelled back, “what everyone else is doing.”  
  
  
The crowd seemed to be jumping up and down a lot during this particular song, so Louis and Harry joined in, bouncing on the floor with their arms waving above their heads. The alcohol was coursing fast through their systems now, and they laughed, feeding off of the adrenaline. It was easy not to feel self-conscious when it was so dark and everyone seemed to be doing their own thing, drunk and careless and having fun.  
  
  
It wasn’t long before the song changed, slowing to a more rhythmic bass, and all at once, the whole crowd began to sway together, seeking out partners. It seemed that almost everyone decided to get in the same position for this song: a front-to-back slow grind. Louis froze, unsure, and was quickly anchored by Harry wrapping his arms around him from behind. He curled himself around Louis, kissing behind his ear. “You okay?”  
  
  
Louis relaxed in his arms with a nod, his hips beginning to move automatically to the beat of the music.

  
  
Harry smiled against his neck and slid his hands down to his hips, holding Louis as they swayed together, back and forth. Harry was careful to keep a small gap of space between them, but every so often, their bodies would brush up against each other. And for a brief moment, Louis could feel that Harry had grown hard inside his jeans. Each time the stiff bulge bumped into Louis’s arse, Harry would pull back, like he didn’t want to go too far, uncertain what Louis would be comfortable with.  
  
  
But Louis was more than just comfortable. He was tipsy, and hot, and the thought of Harry getting hard just _did_ something to him, so he pushed his hips back suggestively, letting Harry know it was okay to grind against him.  
  
  
And Harry did. His hands clenched where they were holding Louis’s hips, pulling them snug together. They moved with the music; Harry grinded his hips forward with slow, almost imperceptible movements while Louis wiggled back, flushing when he felt Harry’s cock twitch against his arse.  
  
  
Up above, the strobe lights slowed to a sinuous swivel, dragging seductively across the crowd. They weaved in and out, and Harry and Louis bathed momentarily in the light before it went dark again. All Louis knew was the music, the warmth in his blood, and Harry – Harry’s hands on his hips and Harry’s lips on his neck, kissing at Louis’s ear as they grinded together.  
  
  
The slow song ended, changing to another fast-paced tune, but Harry didn’t seem to want to dance anymore, and that was perfectly fine with Louis. He followed blindly as Harry led him away from the dance floor to one of the darker corridors of the club, shrouded in shadows. In an instant, Harry pinned him back against the wall, mouthing at his throat, his breath warm and tinged with liquor. “Want you,” he murmured, “want you so fucking much.”  
  
  
Louis shivered at his words, his breath catching when Harry put his mouth to his pulse and started to suck. His hands were going everywhere, touching and feeling and exploring, greedy for it, like he was struggling to hold back. Louis had never felt like this before, so completely desired. Harry _wanted_ him. And that was more intoxicating than the shots of mango vodka Louis had downed at the bar.  
  
  
“Fuck,” Harry whispered, laughing a bit against his neck. “’m really hard.”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip on a smile. He had his arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, secretly loving the way Harry had to duck down to even out their difference in height. “I can tell,” he whispered back.  
  
  
Harry groaned in anguish, lifting his head from Louis’s neck. Their mouths came together, already open, sharing filthy kisses in the shadows of a crowded club. If at all possible, they were practically radiating a mixture of sexual tension and frustration. They hadn’t done anything other than kiss ever since that first night, wanting to take things slow, and now it was as if the dam had totally burst, leaving them clingy and handsy and clamouring for more.  
  
  
Harry slid his hand up the back of Louis’s shirt, pressing against the base of his spine where the skin was hot and damp with sweat. He pulled him in closer, licking into his mouth, and Louis made a soft sound, going pliant in his arms. Harry smiled at that, pushing a thigh between his legs. He pressed firmly up against the bulge at the front of Louis’s jeans, and Louis actually whimpered, his arms tightening around Harry’s neck.  
  
  
Harry kept kissing him, kept the warm pressure of his thigh pressed to his dick, and Louis fought the urge to rut up against it, desperate for friction. “Harry, I – people will  _see_ ,” Louis whispered, not used to being so affectionate in public.  
  
  
Harry actually  _giggled_. “Good. Want them to know you’re mine.”  
  
  
_Mine_. Louis clutched onto him tighter at the word and Harry burrowed into the crook of his neck, whining and murmuring senselessly, drunk and helplessly turned on. And then his thigh began to _move_ against him, and Louis’s eyes rolled back. Over and over, Harry dragged his thigh up against the bulge in Louis’s jeans, so that his cock was beginning to steadily _pulse,_ eager to come.  
  
  
“Harry…” Louis said, a familiar feeling coiling low in his stomach. “I – I’m like, close,” he warned, his face heating up. He _hated_ how easy it was for him to come. _So_ _embarrassing_.  
  
  
Harry, on the other hand, seemed to love it. He pulled back to meet his eyes, his pupils wide and blown. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, before kissing Louis again. “Can’t even believe it.”  
  
  
Thankfully, Harry stopped moving his thigh, but he still held it against him, keeping Louis close to the edge and pining for more. It was taking everything he had just to keep still, and he swallowed hard as Harry went back to kissing his throat. “Harry…”  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry muttered, his mouth busy.  
  
  
Louis bit his lip. He needed _more_. He wanted to get out of this club – he wanted to _come_. He couldn’t tell Harry that, though. It was way too embarrassing to say out loud.  
  
  
Harry switched to the other side of his neck, littering the skin with suckling little kisses. “What is it, baby?”  
  
  
Louis’s lip was held firm between his teeth, the words dying in his throat. He hid his face in Harry’s shoulder and shook his head.  
  
  
Harry nosed at the soft spot behind his ear. “…Need me to take care of you?”  
  
  
Louis nodded shyly.  
  
  
Harry smiled, pressing another little kiss to Louis’s neck before pulling away. He took his hand and Louis followed without a word, walking a bit awkwardly because of the very pronounced tent at the front of his jeans. Together, they weaved through the crowd, a thick haze of warm bodies, and Louis tucked himself close to Harry’s back. They passed through the exit and into the cool night’s air, moving quickly.  
  
  
They found their driver parked on the other side of the street, and Harry gave him a cheeky grin. “Roll up the partition, please,” he said, and Louis shivered as he scrambled into the backseat.  
  
  
Harry was on him in seconds, before the car door had even closed. He placed a hand against Louis’s chest, tipping him backwards, so that he was stretched across the seat. Harry lay alongside him, bringing their lips together again. He kissed him slowly, deliberately, aiming to fluster and tease Louis even more. And it was working.  
  
  
Louis was to worked up to kiss back, so Harry nuzzled at his neck instead, his hand sliding down Louis’s chest and petting over his belly, before coming to a rest at his hip. Louis’s heart was beginning to pound so hard he feared it might actually give out, his senses focused entirely on where Harry’s hand was at his hip, dangerously close to where he wanted it to be. He took a breath to calm himself down, inwardly praying that Harry would touch his dick soon.  
  
  
As if he had read his mind, Harry kissed below his ear, and then he whispered, “Can I touch you?”  
  
  
Louis nodded, feeling each dull thud of his heart as Harry’s hand slid in between his legs, ghosting over the bulge there. “Here?” Harry whispered, still carefully seeking permission.  
  
  
Louis swallowed thickly and nodded again, biting back a moan when Harry started palming him. He dragged his hand up and down the line of his cock, shaping it out through his jeans. He was so fucking  _gentle_ about it, so light and teasing, and Louis was  _dying_  for more friction. He bit down on his lip, his hips canting up, pushing into Harry’s hand.  
  
  
Harry let him rut up against his palm for a few moments before he pulled away, moving his hand back to Louis’s hip to keep him still. And Louis whined at the loss of contact. “ _Harry_.”  
  
  
“I know, baby, I know,” Harry placated, glancing up at the window. “We’re almost there. ’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered, kissing him sweetly. “Promise.”  
  
_  
  
_  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
Finally, finally, they make it back to the hotel. It’s quiet this time of night, nearing half-past two in the morning. The lobby is deserted save for the nightshift desk clerk, who gives them a knowing look. Harry has an arm around Louis’s waist, guiding him towards the lift bank. Their footsteps echo across the marble floor, half-drunk and clumsy.  
  
  
Almost immediately, the doors open with a _ding_ and they step inside the empty lift. Harry presses the button labeled _22 – Penthouse_. The inside of the elevator is lined with mirrors, and everywhere Louis looks, he can see his own reflection: glassy-eyes, tousled hair, and flushed cheeks.  
  
  
He’s completely unprepared when the doors slide to a close, and Harry drops to his knees in front of him.  
  
  
Louis looks down at him with wide-eyes, watching as Harry pops open the button of his fly, pulling the zip down. He lets out a nervous breath, staggering back against the mirrored elevator wall for support.  
  
  
Harry tugs his jeans down over his thighs, exposing his white briefs, his cock hard and straining at the front. He leans forward,  _nuzzling_  his face against the cotton, taking a shameless whiff and breathing him in. And Louis feels his brain combust.  
  
  
He glances desperately at the top of the lift doors, watching the numbers tick off with every floor they pass, one by one… _5…6…7…_

   
  
_What if it stops at one of the floors?  
  
  
What if the doors open and someone sees us like this??_

  
  
Harry looks up at him, his face only centimeters away from the bulge in Louis's briefs. “Colour?” he asks.  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly. They haven’t had to use the colouring system yet, and Louis knows it’s because Harry wants to make sure that he’s comfortable being exposed in a semi-public place like this. He exhales shakily, his cock _pleading_ with him. “...Green.”  
  
_  
_ At the permission, Harry’s fingertips delve excitedly into Louis’s waistband, pulling his briefs down over his thighs. Louis’s cock bobs free, pretty and perfect and  _pink_ , and Harry’s mouth falls open a bit at the sight, staring hungrily. “Fuck,” he breathes, almost to himself, “you’re already _wet_.”  
  
  
Sure enough, there’s a bit of sticky precome gathered at Louis’s tip, and Louis feels his face flame, embarrassed. “Uhm – sorry,” Louis mutters.  
  
  
Harry just shakes his head. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Louis’s dick, not even once. His hand comes up, so big it wraps easily around the base, holding him there, and Louis feels the breath leave his chest. It’s the first time he’s ever had any skin-to-skin contact like this against his dick. Harry exhales, and Louis feels the lightest gust of breath ghost across his tip, making him shiver.  
  
  
He knows exactly where this is heading, and he’s really, _really_ not sure he’s going to make it through this.  
  
  
It comes as a shock when Harry puts his mouth on his dick. An open-mouth kiss, right at the tip. “Oh _god_ ,” Louis whispers, his knees threatening to give out. Harry’s lips are parted and wet, fluttering over delicate skin, his tongue darting out to lick at him, tracing up the slit and catching some of Louis’s precome on his tongue. Louis feels apprehensive about him tasting something like that but – Harry actually makes a soft sound at the taste, close to a moan, his eyes falling closed. And then he’s mouthing all over Louis’s tip, suckling a bit, coaxing out more precome, until his mouth is shiny and wet with it.  
  
  
He pulls back to lick his lips, practically savouring the taste, his warm breath fanning over Louis’s cockhead. “Fuck, I’ve thought about this _so much_ ,” he admits.  
  
  
Those words alone have Louis pinned to the wall – Harry has _thought_ about this. He’s actually thought about what it would be like to suck Louis’s cock.  
  
  
Above the lift doors, the numbers just keep ticking, one after another… _16…17…18_ …  
  
  
“Harry,” Louis whispers weakly. The doors will be opening any second, now, but he wishes the numbers were endless, wishes there were another thousand floors to go. He thinks he may actually cry if Harry stops touching him like this. “I – we’re almost at our floor.”  
  
  
For the first time since he pulled his briefs down, Harry takes his eyes off of Louis’s dick. He turns his head, glancing to where the elevator buttons are. And then he takes Louis’s hand, pressing his finger against the button labeled “Close Doors.”  
  
  
Sure enough, when they get to floor 22, the doors remain shut, the lift held securely in place. Harry looks up at Louis, his hand still cradling the base of his dick. “Is it okay if I keep going?” he asks, and he actually seems a bit shy about it.  
  
  
Louis nods automatically, but doesn’t say a word. Internally, his nerves are screaming _yes, fuck yes, please don’t ever stop._  
  
  
Harry smiles knowingly, giving his cock a little squeeze. “Want you to keep your finger on that button for me, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, impatient, and barely paying attention. He’s sort of desperate to have Harry’s mouth on his cock, again.  
  
  
He can’t help but gasp out again when Harry wraps tight lips around his tip and starts to suck, his hand still stroking at the base. Louis is leaking heavily now, helpless as Harry expertly coaxes more and more precome from his slit. He latches his mouth to it, sucking greedily, and Louis’s head falls back against the wall with a loud _thud_. “F-fuck,” he whispers.  
  
  
Everywhere he looks, he can see Harry in every single mirror, at every  _angle_  – see him on his knees, his head bobbing filthily between Louis’s legs. Looking down, he watches his lips stretch around him, puffy-pink and absolutely  _obscene_  as he swallows him down, inch by inch.  
  
  
Louis has never known anything like this. The tight warmth of Harry’s mouth, and the gentle suck against his swollen tip. He whimpers helplessly and Harry hums in response, sending a vibration straight through Louis’s dick. Louis had always thought that subs were supposed to be the ones serving and pleasing their doms, but Harry seems to get off on pleasing  _him_. Louis can see him palming himself with his free hand through his pants, his eyes closed in bliss, so turned on just from sucking on Louis’s cock.  
  
  
Harry pulls back up, mouthing at his cockhead like it’s a lolly. He opens his eyes and glances up at Louis, moaning when he sees him looking back. The tip of his tongue digs into Louis’s slit, wriggling messily –  _fucking hell_.  
  
  
Louis lets go of the button then, so gone to the sensation he forgets Harry’s command. The doors open just slightly before he snaps back to his senses, slamming his finger against the button again.  
  
  
Harry pulls his mouth away, moving it up to Louis’s hipbone, instead, kissing teasingly at the skin there. His cock is left abandoned between his legs, slick with spit and so hard it’s starting to  _ache_.  
  
  
“Sorry,” Louis whispers, desperate to have Harry’s mouth back.  
  
  
Harry presses more delicate kisses to his hip, humming thoughtfully. “S’okay, love,” he whispers, and _fuck_ , there’s a roughness to his voice that wasn’t there before. His fingertips rub teasing circles against his inner thigh. “You gonna be good this time?” he murmurs, smiling cheekily, like he knows exactly how worked up Louis is.  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly, his finger firmly pressed to the button. “Promise.”  
  
  
Harry moves his head back between Louis’s legs, blowing against his cock and sending shivers down Louis’s spine. He reaches his hand up, palming gently at Louis’s balls. And then his mouth is on him again, and Louis is in heaven. He’s in absolute fucking _heaven_.  
  
  
Harry sinks down, his head bobbing on Louis’s cock. His lips catch on the tip each time he pulls up, slurping noisily and groaning at the taste of Louis's precome. He finds the bit of skin just below the ridge of Louis’s cockhead, the part where he’s mouth sensitive, and starts to kiss and mouth at it, nuzzling with his lips, until Louis’s whole body starts to shudder, his thighs trembling. “Harry…” he tries to warn. But Harry massages his balls just the way Louis likes, tightens his lips and slurps and sucks on the tip like a lolly, massaging with his tongue, and Louis is done for.  
  
  
“Oh _– oh my god,_ ” Louis cries, his back arching against the mirror as he finally comes, spilling down Harry’s throat without warning.  
  
  
He slumps back against the wall, still holding down on the button as he catches his breath, his mind fuzzy and hazy in the best possible way. Harry stands up moments later, rolling his shoulders back and looking rather smug.  
  
  
“Feel better?” he asks.  
  
  
Louis nods his head, dazed and sated. Then he reaches for Harry’s fly, figuring he's probably supposed to reciprocate now, although he has no idea how. “Erm, do you want me to—?”  
  
  
But Harry shakes his head with a little smile, pointing to the telltale wet spot at the front of his pants. “Already took care of it.”  
  
  
“Oh,” Louis mutters, blushing.  
  
  
Louis zips up his jeans and they exit the elevator into a deserted hallway, yawning as they follow it down to the penthouse suite, both looking rather weathered and wrecked. Harry unlocks the door and flicks on the lights, kicking off his shoes.  
  
  
Louis changes into his pyjamas while Harry uses the bathroom, stepping back out moments later in a clean pair of boxers. They brush their teeth at the twin sinks, getting ready for bed.  
  
  
Harry is the first to climb under the sheets, still a bit drunk and sleepy. Louis digs two water bottles out of the minifridge, offering one to Harry when he climbs into bed.  
  
  
Harry smiles up at him. “Thanks, love.”  
  
  
They both gulp down the water like they’ve just run a marathon, and then Louis burrows under the sheets, snuggling up next to Harry when he lifts his arm invitingly.  
  
  
Harry yawns, and after a moment whispers, “...Sorry about tonight.”  
  
  
Louis furrows his brow, peeking up at him. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
“I was pretty drunk,” he says. “I don’t usually drink that much, really. Guess I got a little excited about the deal.”  
  
  
Louis just laughs, remembering how overly-affectionate Harry was at the club. “…I didn’t mind.”  
  
  
Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Louis listens as his breathing steadily evens out.  
  
  
He yawns, curling on his side with Harry’s arm wrapped around his middle. “G’night, Harry,” he whispers.  
  
  
“Night, baby.”

 


	5. The Prisoner

_  
  
Louis’s fringe is damp and splayed across his forehead and the bed sheets are searing at his back, fused to the skin. Harry hovers over him, watching closely with his hands planted flat on the mattress on either side of Louis’s head. He’s got just the tip of his cock buried inside of him, making him wait for it.  
  
  
When he ducks his head to kiss him, it’s slow and agonizing, and Louis wriggles and whines, trying to take more of him inside.  
  
  
His mouth falls open when Harry finally sinks into him, Louis’s rim stretched tight around his cock. Harry rolls his hips, brushing up against something deep inside that makes Louis’s whole body shudder. He stares up at him with wide eyes, full of shock and adoration and bliss.  
  
  
Harry moves his hand to cup Louis’s neck, pressing kisses to his cheek, breath warm and laboured against the skin. He pumps his hips forward in sharp snaps, pulling the sweetest little gasps from Louis’s lips.  
  
  
“So perfect,” Harry breathes, his voice ragged and low. “Always so good for me.”  
  
  
Louis clutches helplessly at Harry’s biceps and hides his face against his shoulder, embarrassed and about to come.  
_  
  
_“D-daddy,” he cries out, “Daddy...”  
  
  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
Louis wakes up with a jolt, lying in bed in the dark.  
  
  
… _Just a dream?_  
  
  
It’s as if the rug has been pulled out from under his feet, tossing him rather cruelly back into coherence. His heart is pounding wildly and his shirt sticks to his chest and his cock is hard, neglected and aching where it’s trapped against his thigh. He glances to his left to find Harry lying beside him in bed, sound asleep.  
  
  
Careful not to wake him, Louis slips out of bed and pads across the floor to the en-suite, pulling the door closed behind him. He clicks the lock into place with a frown, refusing to look in the mirror as he strips out of his pants and wraps a shaky hand around himself. He doesn’t want to see his reflection. He’s too ashamed.  
  
  
_Daddy._  
  
  
The word burns at the back of his throat.  
  
  
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He can’t make sense of this mess inside his head. There is a part of him that gets hard from the thought of Harry taking care of him, of Harry being  _Daddy_ for him, and it’s getting more and more difficult to ignore, taunting him. He doesn’t know what to do.  
  
  
He knows Harry will leave him if he ever finds out. It’s just too much, too far, too strange.  
  
  
He pulls at his dick in quick, guilty strokes, biting his lip when he feels the wetness that’s gathered at the tip. He can’t help it. He just  _wants_  so much, all the time, and the things he wants the most are the things he shouldn’t want at all. He  _knows_  he shouldn’t. But…  
  
  
He just wants Harry to fuck him and call him  _baby_. He wants to be good for him. He wants to climb onto his lap, bury his face against his neck and call him  _Daddy_ , grind down on him until he’s made a mess in his pants. All bad things. Naughty, shameful things.  
  
  
Louis squirms, flushing pink and as he tugs on his cock. Harry’s voice from the dream is still so clear inside his head, rough and low and echoing…  
  
  
_My good boy._  
  
  
No. Louis isn’t a good boy. Louis is bad. He doesn’t deserve it when he comes against his palm a moment later, spilling white and warm and  _guilty_. He washes his hands in the sink, still avoiding his pink-cheeked reflection in the mirror.  
  
  
He pulls on some fresh pyjamas in the dark before climbing back into bed, trying not to think about anything—the fucked up mess inside his head, or the dull  _throb_  of desire that still pulses through him even after he’s come.  
  
  
Harry reaches for him in his sleep, tugging him back against his chest to nuzzle at his neck. And Louis wants to cry, wants to burrow under the sheets and just  _cry_. He wishes he could be good enough for Harry. He takes hold of his hand, bringing it up to his lips to press kisses to his knuckles.

  
  
And then he lies awake for a long, long time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Louis and Zayn wake up early, letting their doms sleep in. Ever since they returned from London, Harry and Liam had spent the following week working overtime, swamped with the new expanse in locations from the recent business takeover. They came home late in the afternoons only to head straight up the grand staircase to Harry’s office, working tirelessly behind closed doors. Louis and Zayn steered clear for a while, careful not to disturb.  
  
  
It was a relief when the weekend came, finally allowing for some days off. The two subs wandered downstairs and set about making breakfast, keeping quiet. Louis used to be really shit at cooking, but he took a culinary class back at the Academy and has learned a thing or two since then. He stands in front of the stove now, carefully arranging strips of bacon in a frying pan. Meanwhile, Zayn cracks some eggs into a large bowl, whisking the yolks with a fork. Louis watches as his friend digs some butter and a carton of milk out of the refrigerator before carrying them back over to the countertop. He’s moving unusually slow this morning.  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow. “You okay? Why are you walking like that?”  
  
  
Zayn smiles, biting at the corner of his lip, and unless Louis’s eyes are playing tricks on him, there seems to be a slight  _blush_  dusting his cheeks. Zayn averts his gaze, scooping up a spoonful of butter. “Uhm, Liam fucked me last night.”  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen. “Really?”  
  
  
Zayn nods. “Yup. First time.”  
  
  
“Wow,” Louis whispers, watching as the bacon begins to sizzle on the skillet. “Surprised he wasn’t too tired. They’ve been working so much lately.”  
  
  
Zayn nods again. “That’s what I thought, but…he said he was really stressed so,” he shrugs, smirking. “I asked if I could relieve it.”  
  
  
Louis snorts. “Nice.”  
  
  
“Definitely,” Zayn agrees with a smirk.  
  
  
Louis feels his face heat as he turns the bacon over, browning both sides. “So…what was it like?”  
  
  
“Fucking amazing,” Zayn sighs, “he wouldn’t stop until I came twice.”  
  
  
Louis listens quietly, nodding his head.  
  
  
He isn’t surprised in the least that Zayn and Liam have been moving a lot faster in their relationship than he and Harry. Clearly, Zayn isn’t reduced to a pathetic puddle of nerves at the thought of doing anything sexual the way that Louis is. And Louis frowns, feeling rather inadequate. He hasn’t even seen Harry  _naked_  yet, for god’s sake. Nor have they done anything more than kiss ever since Harry blew him in an elevator in London. He had seemed too tired and stressed from work to attempt anything further, and Louis is too embarrassed to initiate these kind of things.    
  
  
On top of that, something else had been worrying him lately. And apparently Zayn was the perfect person to ask about it, now. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, keeping his eyes on the skillet. “So, erm…did it  _hurt_?”  
  
  
Zayn just shrugs, pouring the whisked eggs into a pan. “Yeah, a bit at first. I mean, Liam is… _thick_. But, it gets better pretty quick.”  
  
  
Louis fidgets, checking over his shoulder to make sure they’re still alone. “Just don’t understand how it’s supposed to  _fit_  up there,” he mutters under his breath, embarrassed.  
  
  
“Lube. Lots of it,” Zayn tells him, prodding at the eggs with a spatula until they’re fluffy and scrambled. He looks up at his friend, then. “Don’t worry about it so much, Lou. He’ll take care of you first, you know. Like, prep you with his fingers.”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly at the thought. Even Harry’s  _fingers_  are big! He switches off the hob and stacks the bacon on a plate, turning to start on the waffle mix. It isn’t long before they hear some noise from down the hall, and then Harry and Liam come into the kitchen, both looking sleep-rumpled and well rested. Harry wraps his arms around Louis from behind, dotting the top of his head with kisses. “Morning.”  
  
  
Louis smiles. “Hi,” he whispers, still stirring the mix with a spoon.  
  
  
“What smells so good?”  
  
  
“’m making waffles. And there’s bacon, too,” Louis tells him, pointing to the plate. He picks one of the crispier pieces from the top of the stack, biting it in half before offering the rest to Harry. Harry opens his mouth so Louis can pop the bacon inside.  
  
  
“Mmm,” Harry muses between bites, patting at Louis’s soft waist. “Thanks for making breakfast.”  
  
  
They carry their plates into the den, plopping down on the couches to eat the spread of eggs and crispy bacon, waffles dipped in maple syrup. The morning news is on television, the weatherman’s voice buzzing something monotonous. It was going to be another cloudy day.

  
  
When they’ve finished eating, they set their empty plates aside on the coffee table and Harry leans back across the couch, his arms folded up behind his head with a yawn. Louis sits at the other end, watching him reverently, until Harry looks back at him. He smiles, patting his thigh in a request for cuddles.  
  
  
Louis goes eagerly, curling up to Harry with his head on his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath. He tries to make himself as small as possible, tucked inside the crook of Harry’s arm.  
  
  
Louis likes feeling small.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  


  
They spend the rest of the lazy Saturday morning lounging about in the den, watching shit TV programs and sharing languid kisses, happy to be back together at home again. It isn’t until midday that the four of them decide to do some much-needed chores around the house. Harry and Liam take the downstairs, cleaning up the kitchen and the dust-filled garage, while Louis and Zayn tidy the bed and baths of the second story.  
  
  
The house is nearly spotless after dinner that night, as Louis pads down the quiet hallway to the laundry room. The washing machine hums in the corner, a load of towels spinning and churning around inside. He pulls a set of freshly washed bed sheets from the dryer, burying his nose in the warm, soft blankets and breathing in deep. He’s always loved the smell of linen detergent. It reminds him of his mum.    
  
  
It’s dark and empty in the master bedroom when he opens the door and flicks on the lights. Harry is still downstairs, working out in the home-gym. So, Louis strips the old sheets and pillowcases from the mattress, replacing them with the clean ones. Afterwards, he sits down on the edge of the king-sized bed, smoothing a hand against the duvet. He isn’t tired enough to sleep yet, and he really doesn’t like going to bed without Harry.  
  
  
Louis would have joined Harry in the gym, but he’s never exactly been keen on exercising—which would explain why his body is so pitifully untoned. He scowls down at his stomach, tugging at the hem of his shirt to cover it better, even though there’s no one around to see it, anyway.  
  
  
Sitting in the quiet bedroom, he can hear faint sounds coming from the other side of the house—a steady  _knocking_ , like that of a headboard being repeatedly thrust against a wall. And he knows it’s coming from Liam and Zayn’s room. They were rather eager to turn in to bed almost immediately after dinner, tonight.  
  
  
Louis feels his cheeks heat, embarrassed at overhearing something so intimate. He wonders if Harry will have something similar in mind when he comes to bed. But then again, maybe he’ll be too tired from exercising to try anything.  
  
  
Louis frowns down at his lap, feeling like a failure. He still has no idea why Harry chose him to be his sub in the first place.  _Honestly_ …he could have had  _anyone_.  
  
  
  
“Louis?”  
  
  
  
Louis’s head snaps up then, glancing to his right to see Harry walking towards him. He was so caught up in thought he didn’t hear him come into the room. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black joggers, his chest covered in a light sheen of sweat. Louis’s eyes travel guiltily over the planes of his body before he quickly averts his gaze. Harry is devastating, really. Louis  _definitely_  doesn’t know why he chose him.  
  
  
“Oh, hi,” Louis says, quickly wiping the frown from his face.  
  
  
Harry is always so observant, though. He sits down beside him on the bed, watching him with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
“Nothing,” Louis says. He knows Harry won’t take that for an answer, though; he’s way too obvious, his emotions always etched across his face. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his cheeks growing warm. “It’s just, uhm…is there anything you, like…want me to – to do for you?”  
  
  
Harry inclines his head. “What do you mean?”  
  
  
Louis fidgets, his cheeks practically  _flaming_  with embarrassment by now. “Just, I…I mean, Zayn said that he and Liam already – and we haven’t really…you know,” he trails off lamely, not making any sense.  
  
  
Somehow, Harry seems to understand. “Hey,” he murmurs, placing a comforting hand at the small of Louis’s back. “Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing. It’s just you and me, yeah? We’re going to do things our own way.”  
  
  
Louis nods, eyes still cast down towards his lap. “…just don’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his voice terribly small.  
  
  
Harry raises his brow at that. He softly cups Louis’s chin, tilting his face up to meet his eyes. “You’re not disappointing me at all, Louis,” he tells him, quietly. “I didn’t bring you here so I could have someone to sleep with. My priority is taking care of you. Your comfort and happiness comes first.”  
  
  
All Louis can do is stare at him, taken aback. He doesn’t understand it. There are so many selfish, neglectful doms in the world, but here is Harry, telling Louis that taking care of him is his  _priority_. He really doesn’t know what he did to deserve any of this. He feels as though he’s living a life on someone else’s well of luck.  
  
  
Harry frowns then, looking guilty as he brushes his thumb at Louis’s cheekbone. “…I haven’t been very attentive these passed few days, have I? Been working so much. Things should calm down a bit, come next week.” He pulls Louis onto his lap, holding him close with an arm around his middle. Soft lips brush at his temple. “Haven’t properly touched you in days,” he whispers, his hands sliding down to Louis’s hips. “I’m sorry.”  
  
  
Louis just clings to him, pressing closer. “s’okay.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, nuzzling his nose against his cheek. “You’re the sweetest boy in the world,” he murmurs. And Louis blushes, hoping to God he doesn’t get hard right now. He really,  _really_  likes when Harry tells him that he’s sweet. He can’t explain it.  
  
  
Harry presses their lips together then, soft little kisses that make Louis’s belly flutter embarrassingly. When Harry pulls away, he wrinkles his nose, glancing down at the dried sweat on his chest. “Think I smell bad,” he says with a laugh.  
  
  
Louis just shakes his head, poking fondly at the dimple in Harry’s cheek.  
  
  
“Gonna shower, now,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
“’kay.”  
  
  
Louis moves to climb off his lap, but Harry tightens his hold on his hips, keeping him in place. He trails his lips up his neck, kissing at his earlobe and making Louis shiver. “…I’d really like it if you’d join me,” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen. He barely has time to panic before Harry is standing up from the bed, Louis still cradled in his arms. He carries him to the bathroom and gently kicks the door closed behind them, setting Louis down. The marble tile is cold beneath his bare feet. He fidgets, growing more and more nervous by the second. Harry has never seen him without a shirt on, before.  
  
  
It really shouldn’t be a big deal. It  _isn’t_  a big deal, but…the thing is, Harry is tall and long and lean; he’s all porcelain skin and intricate tattoos and the subtle cut of muscles. How could Louis possibly stand before him the way he is – the complete  _opposite_  – short and untoned and terribly  _soft_. Harry had said that he isn’t disappointed with him, but what if he changes his mind once he’s finally seen  _all_  of Louis, stripped bare and with so little to offer?  
  
  
Still, this moment is surely way past due by now. Louis knows he can’t hide behind closed doors forever, and really, he doesn’t want to hide anymore. He desperately wants to be closer to Harry. He just hopes Harry will still want the same thing, once his clothes are pooled at his feet.  
  
  
Harry digs some towels out of the linen closet, dropping them onto the counter by the sink, his joggers still hanging low around his hips. Then he turns and looks to Louis, his gaze soft and reassuring, as if he can sense his hesitation.  
  
  
Louis releases the breath he’s been holding, a weight sitting heavy on his chest. With nervous hands, he unzips his jeans, tugging them down over his thighs, followed by his underwear, until they’ve both been kicked to the floor. His cheeks burn, embarrassed by how small his cock is when it’s flaccid and soft.  
  
  
He stares down at his feet, chewing on his lower lip. His fingertips pinch at the hem of his shirt, hesitating to remove it. He can  _feel_  Harry’s eyes on him, watching his every move, and it makes his pulse pound in his throat. He wonders if Harry can hear it.  
  
  
Only seconds pass before the line between Harry’s eyebrows deepens with concern. He steps closer, crossing the tiled floor. “Louis…” he says, carefully. “Baby, why are you so nervous?”  
  
  
Louis heaves a sigh, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Once again, he’s ruined the moment. It seems like no matter what they do, Louis is always too nervous and flustered to keep his cool, fucking things up every time. It’s a wonder Harry hasn’t lost his patience, yet. Instead, he’s watching him closely, his gaze soft rather than judgmental, and Louis doesn’t understand that at all. He doesn’t understand  _why_.  
  
  
He reaches out a hand, poking at the ridge of Harry’s abs. “Don’t have these,” he mutters, trying for humour, but it falls flat. All he feels is stupid.  
  
  
Harry shrugs his shoulders, not unkindly. “So?”  
  
  
“Just –” he shakes his head, frustrated with himself. “Wish I was more fit for you, I guess.”  
  
  
Harry frowns, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Louis’s lips. “Don’t say that about yourself,” he whispers, his tone commanding but still so gentle, somehow. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Louis. Nothing.”  
  
  
Louis nods his head, not entirely convinced.  
  
  
Harry brings their lips together, his hands moving to grasp at the hem of Louis’s shirt near his hips, just holding. “I wanna see you,” he murmurs between kisses, “all of you,” another kiss, “okay?”  
  
  
Louis searches his eyes, smiling hesitantly at the sincerity he finds there. He exhales, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry smiles back. “Lift up, love.”  
  
  
Louis raises his arms, and then Harry slowly tugs his shirt up and over his head, letting it fall. He feels cold and bare and  _exposed_  in a way he’s never been before, and he resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He keeps his gaze held to the floor, waiting on thin ice for Harry’s reaction.  
  
  
Harry doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He stares down between them, eyes slowly traveling across Louis’s small body, bared open to his gaze for the first time. He takes in the golden skin, dotted with an occasional freckle here and there, soft little biceps and the sparse, light hair that trails from his belly button down to the dip between his thighs. Harry swallows thickly, his eyes lingering at the two buds of Louis’s nipples, so tiny and supple, before his gaze drops back to the slight curve around his hips, and – and his  _tummy_.  
  
  
“ _Louis_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry drops down to his knees for a closer look then, eager to get his mouth on this unexplored territory, claim it all for himself. He nuzzles his face against the warm skin of Louis’s tummy, nosing along the subtle cut of his V-line. Louis can do nothing but gape at him, positively bewildered and overwhelmed by all of the attention Harry is currently smothering his stomach with. He definitely wasn’t expecting this.  
  
  
Harry nips lovingly at the skin, peppering his belly all over with tickling kisses that make Louis shudder and giggle nervously. He spends ages licking and sucking at the soft little bit of pudge below Louis’s navel, practically  _worshipping_  it, humming low in his throat and – Jesus, Harry might actually be getting off on this.  
  
  
His hands clench around Louis’s waist, a perfect fit, still nosing indulgently at the warm skin. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time,” he wonders, almost to himself.  
  
  
Louis goes a bit pink…He didn’t know it was actually  _a thing_  to be attracted to bellies—and certainly not his own. He wonders if Harry will ever stop surprising him.  
  
  
He really, really hopes not.  
  
  
Harry stands then, trailing kisses at Louis’s torso on his way up. He cradles his face in his hands, kissing his cheeks. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers reassuringly.  
  
  
Louis instinctively shies away from the compliment, chuckling as he averts his eyes. “Didn’t know you liked stomachs so much.”  
  
  
“I didn’t either,” Harry shrugs. “Not until I saw yours.”  
  
  
And Louis wonders, not for the first time, if he could actually just be imagining all of this. He wonders if maybe Harry is laying it on thick, exaggerating his compliments and affections just to make Louis feel better. But no, he really means it. Louis can tell.  
  
  
Harry kisses his forehead one last time before moving away, slipping quickly into the shower to twist at the taps until the water comes on, splattering against the tile. He steps back out and rolls his shoulders, and Louis stares at the dip in his back, the way his muscles flex underneath his skin with each movement. When his hands drift to the waistband of his joggers, Louis watches with wide-eyes, swallowing nervously. Harry pulls them down and then straightens back up, totally unabashed. And Louis’s mouth falls open a bit at the sight.  
  
  
Harry’s cock bobs free,  _massive_  and blushing pink. It juts out from a small, neatly-trimmed patch of dark hair, hanging heavy and full between his legs, bigger than Louis had pictured in his dreams, and -  _fuck_.  
  
  
He fidgets, blushing furiously at his own thoughts, and it’s made worse when he notices Harry has caught him staring, smirking a bit. He reaches out a hand, gently tugging Louis into the shower with him and pulling the glass door closed behind them.  
  
  
It’s wide and rectangular inside, with four or five different showerheads positioned along the walls. Louis loves it in here. He spent his entire life standing in cramped bathtubs during his showers, elbows clumsily knocking over shampoo bottles. This is so much more spacious and opulent.  
  
  
Harry turned the two closest showerheads on and they stand next to each other under each spray, getting wet. Harry squirts some shampoo into his palm and moves closer, rubbing it into Louis’s hair for him without a word. Louis’s eyes droop closed, lulled by Harry’s fingers massaging at his scalp, working up a lather. He shivers as his knuckles brush against the sensitive little soft spots behind his ears.  
  
  
“Think you could fit my old dorm room inside your shower,” Louis tells him after a moment.  
  
  
“ _Our_ shower,” Harry corrects with a little smile. He strokes the rich lather through Louis’s hair, tugging it down to the nape of his neck and making Louis preen. Then he gently tilts his head back under the water to rinse away the shampoo.  
  
  
Afterwards, Louis reaches for the conditioner and Harry starts on his own hair, the long strands falling wetly at his shoulders. Louis can’t help but stare, failing to keep his eyes on the tiled shower wall and away from Harry’s body. He’s never been in such close proximity to someone naked like this – and it’s _Harry_. Harry with his long limbs and tattoos, his cock jutting out from between his thighs, still half-hard from when he was mouthing at Louis’s belly. Louis can hardly manage to look away; there’s so much wet skin, so much he’s never seen, before.  
  
  
Harry tosses his head back, and Louis watches as lather and soapsuds drift down his torso, the streams of water following the cut of his pelvis. His skin is so slick and shiny and wet. Louis can’t help but to reach out and touch, hesitantly dragging his fingertips along the low valley between Harry’s hips.  
  
  
It’s one of the first times Louis has ever initiated contact and Harry jumps at the feeling, caught off guard. He follows the trail of Louis’s fingers, and when he looks back up at his face, his eyes have darkened, sending a shiver down Louis’s spine.  
  
  
Harry turns and grabs a bottle of shower gel from the shelf then, drizzling some onto a flannel. He wraps a hand around Louis’s wrist, pulling him closer to drag the flannel across his chest, washing him. Louis stands still, his heart beat speeding up as Harry’s hands freely roam across his naked body, lightly scrubbing down his arms and back, spreading the soapsuds.  
  
  
He gently pushes him back against the damp shower wall, smoothing the flannel down Louis’s stomach, brushing it upwards in between his thighs. He wraps it around his cock, giving him a few quick tugs. The material of the cloth is a bit rough against the sensitive skin there but still so  _good_ , somehow. Louis’s head drops back, his breath hitching. And then Harry moves his hand again, dipping it back down between Louis’s legs. He feels the flannel slip between the cheeks of his bum, brushing fleetingly at his  _hole_ —  
  
  
Louis startles with a blush, and then the touch is gone.  
  
  
Harry drops the flannel, the steam rising around them in soft tufts and swirls. He moves his hands to Louis’s hips, giving them a little squeeze as he ducks his head to bring their lips together. Louis tilts up into the kiss, reveling in the feel of Harry’s solid body against him, hands gripping at his biceps to keep himself steady. His knees are getting weak. They’ve never been this close, before – skin against skin – hot and bare and slick with water, slippery as they move against each other. They’re naked, and they’re wet, and they’re making out in the shower, breath quickening between their lips, and it’s so fucking _hot_ , all of it. Harry’s cock is filling up again where it nudges against Louis’s belly and Louis makes a soft sound, anxious and nervous and ridiculously eager for whatever’s to come next. He just wants Harry to touch him some more. His dick is starting to ache for some sort of friction.  
  
  
Harry pulls back then, smiling at the look on Louis’s face, pink cheeks and swollen lips. “You okay?” he murmurs, hands rubbing gently at his waist.  
  
  
Louis nods, getting more and more turned on as Harry buries his face in his neck. He finds the pulse-point there in his throat and latches his mouth to it, sucking needily, licking up the water drops. Louis’s eyelashes flutter at the feeling. He arches into the touch, hips pushing out involuntarily, bumping the tip of his dick against Harry’s thigh. And he feels Harry smile against his neck.  
  
  
Harry kisses up the shell of his ear then, tongue catching on his earlobe. “m’gonna take you to bed, now,” he murmurs, voice low. “Wanna make you come.”  
  
  
Louis shivers at his words, his body going pliant under Harry’s palms.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles behind his ear. “That okay?”  
  
  
Louis lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head. Every touch has him clinging closer to Harry, not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do or what’s going to happen next, but he knows he can look towards Harry for control—to  _take care_  of him. It’s become a need as much as it’s a want.  
  
  
The taps shut off and then the glass door is sliding open, releasing a cloud of steam into the en-suite. The mirror is fogged. They quickly dry themselves with fluffy towels and then Harry is pulling Louis into a hug, sliding his hands all over his body as he kisses the top of his head, his forehead, moving across his cheeks and downward, until he finally reaches his mouth. Louis parts his lips at once, and Harry groans at his submission, delving inside with his tongue. His hands drift down from Louis’s waist to the backs of his thighs, cupping just below his bum. And then he’s lifting him off his feet.  
  
  
Louis gives a surprised squeak against Harry’s mouth, his legs locking automatically around his waist. Just thinking about how much bigger Harry is than him has Louis’s dick twitching against his abdomen. He loves it – their size difference. How  _easily_  Harry can lift him up and carry him around, have his way with him. He feels so little and special in his arms.  
  
  
Harry carries him straight to bed, stripping back the duvet with one hand. Then he gently sets him down sideways, so that his legs are dangling over the edge of the mattress. Louis falls backward and lies very, very still, his hands folded over his tummy and his nerves lighting up like ferris wheels.  
  
  
Harry lies down beside him, leaning in close to kiss him some more, his thumb brushing at his cheek. Louis is so nervous and wound-up he’s useless at kissing back, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He simply changes trajectory, going back to sucking little kisses into the skin of Louis’s neck.  
  
  
Louis’s breath keep hitching embarrassingly – he can’t catch it, can’t get his fucking heart to calm down, because he’s with Harry, and they’re in bed, and they’re _naked_ , and it’s never been like this before.  
  
  
“Shh, baby,” Harry placates, his hand rubbing at Louis’s side, “is this okay?”  
  
  
Through his nerves, Louis nods, slightly frantic, terrified that whatever’s happening right now will stop. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life.  
  
  
Harry kisses below his ear. “Could you roll over for me? Want you on your belly.”  
  
  
Louis’s brain momentarily short-circuits at that, his lungs ready to give out, before he nods and rolls over, biting his lip when his cock presses down into the mattress. Harry’s fingers stroke at the wet, downy hairs at the nape of Louis’s neck. He pushes them back to reveal the delicate skin underneath, and then presses his lips against it. “So good for me,” Harry whispers, and Louis shivers at the praise.  
  
  
From there, Harry’s lips trail in slow, excruciating increments down the line of Louis’s spinal cord to the small of his back, pecking affectionately at the dimples there at the base, pressed into his skin. Louis chews at his bottom lip the whole time to keep in any sounds, fingers twisting anxiously in the sheets. He’s faced forward, unable to see Harry or anticipate his movements, and it’s driving him  _insane_. His skin prickles with each and every touch, hypersensitive.  
  
  
Harry reaches for a pillow, dropping it to the floor. He situates his knees on it for comfort, knelt down at the bedside in between Louis’s parted thighs.  
  
  
Louis’s heart pounds.  
  
  
Harry slides his hands down Louis’s back, massaging gently before coming to rest at the cute, rounded little globes of his arse. It’s perfect – was practically  _designed_  to be cupped by Harry’s hands. He rubs his palms against the skin, stroking and petting, relishing in all of these secret places he’s never been able to touch, before.  
  
  
“I’ve been going mad, wanting to get my hands on this,” Harry whispers down to him, a small smile in his voice.  
  
  
Louis bites at his lip with a blush, feeling more exposed than  _ever_ , bent over and on display. It embarrasses him, but yet somehow makes him feel good and hot and flushed all over at the same time. He’s almost ashamed of how badly he wants to be used by Harry.  
  
  
Harry’s fingers knead at his cheeks then, his thumbs slowly spreading him open. He swallows hard with lust at the sight that’s revealed…Louis’s  _hole_  – tiny, tiny,  _tiny_  and adorably pink.  
  
  
For a moment, he does nothing but stare, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “ _God_ , Louis,” he whispers, voice laced with awe. He lightly caresses his rim with the pad of his thumb, a dull throb being sent straight through his cock. “You’re so pretty, baby,” he murmurs, “Wish you could see how pretty you are down here.”  
  
  
Louis blushes furiously, hiding his face in the crook of his arm. Harry called him _pretty_.  
  
  
Harry rubs his thumb over the little bits of skin surrounding Louis’s hole, still a bit damp from the shower and baby soft. He smells like soap and skin and musk, and Harry’s mouth may be watering a bit with an urge to _taste_. He lowers his head and presses his lips against him, kissing all around the delicate skin but carefully avoiding Louis’s rim, tempting. Louis actually starts to shiver, he’s so worked up from the relentless teasing and anticipation. Because he thinks he’s knows exactly where this is heading and – god, he’s always wondered what it would feel like…  
  
  
Harry sets his lips  _just_  above Louis’s hole, pausing there... “Do you know what I want to do to you?” he asks, breath warm against his skin.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, swallowing thickly, “… _no_ ,” he lies.  
  
  
Harry hums, hands kneading at his cheeks again, spreading him open some more. “I wanna taste you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses all around his rim. “Wanna open you up with my tongue.”  
  
  
Louis squirms impatiently, and Harry presses him down against the bed, holding him still. His tongue darts out, tracing dangerously close. “Will you let me do this?” he whispers, “Let me lick out your pretty little hole?”  
  
  
Louis  _whines_  – he wants this so fucking much, didn’t even know how badly he wanted it until now. He nods his head, burying his face into his folded arms. “Please,” he whispers, shakily.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen at the first touch – Harry  _kissing_  him there – light, fluttering little brushes of lips. He can feel Harry’s nose bumping against him, Harry’s breath ghosting across his skin, Harry’s  _lips_ , petal soft and plush as pillows, peppering his rim with little suckling kisses. Louis’s entire body shudders. “ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, muffled in the crook of his arm.  
  
  
Harry slowly bobs his head up and down, brushing his mouth over Louis’s hole, playing with it, until it starts to twitch and flutter in response. And Louis jolts when he feels the first touch of something slick and wet – Harry’s _tongue_ – tracing along the slightly wrinkled skin of his rim, teasing at it. Louis’s mouth falls open and – holy shit. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt, before. He was almost expecting it to feel strange, but it’s so, so  _good_.  
  
  
“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whimpers, parting his thighs for more.  
  
  
Harry hums approvingly at that, doubling his efforts. He suctions his mouth to Louis’s rim like a French kiss, tongue wiggling against him _,_ messy and  _filthy_. Louis bites down on his forearm to hold in a moan, going boneless against the sheets as Harry licks and sucks at his hole. His cock is still trapped against his belly and he can feel it pulsing, leaking precome whenever Harry does that thing with his tongue. “ _Harry_ ,” he whimpers, his hips bucking backwards, wanting _more_.  
  
  
Harry immediately complies and pulls him closer, arms wrapping up around his thighs, palms gripping at his arse, pulling his cheeks apart with both hands so his hole peeks out some more, even more pink and wet now. He admires the view for a moment before ducking his head again, nosing in between Louis’s cheeks to get his mouth back on his rim. He flattens his tongue, licking slowly up and down, over and over again.  
  
  
“Oh-oh my god,” Louis whimpers, shaking his head, struggling between pulling away and rocking back onto Harry’s tongue. It’s all so _intense_ , so light and gentle and fucking _teasing_. He’s getting lost in it now, too overwhelmed to be embarrassed about his own sounds. He can’t stop whimpering into the crook of his arm, letting out a moan when Harry’s tongue wriggles against him, flicking messily back and forth.  
  
  
Harry can feel Louis’s thighs trembling where he’s wrapped up between them, can feel Louis’s body go limp whenever he licks him a certain way, with slow, fat laps of his tongue. He’s addicted to the sound of Louis moaning for him, the breathy little whimpers and gasps of surprise, like he didn’t even know it was _possible_ to feel this good. It has Harry’s hips jerking forward, bumping his cockhead against the mattress, speeding up at the sound of Louis’s pretty whimpers. He pulls back a bit to collect himself, breathing wetly over his hole. “Has no one ever done this to you before, baby?” he murmurs, even though he already knows the answer.  
  
  
Louis whines miserably at the sudden loss of touch, shaking his head.  
  
  
Harry hums, thumbs still kneading at the flesh. “You know how lucky that makes me feel?” he whispers, pressing another soft kiss to Louis’s hole. “Knowing I’m the only one who gets to do this to you?”  
  
  
He parts his lips then, swirling his tongue in tiny, insistent circles. And Louis pounds his fist against the bed, tingly and so very sensitive. “ _Harry – f-fuck_ ,” he gasps with a choked-off moan.  
  
  
Harry pulls away again, fucking _mesmerised_. “ _God_ , you sound so good,” he mutters, before delving back in.  
  
  
He licks and slurps at his hole until Louis is flushed and squirming, his eyes clenched shut. His little hands tug at the sheets. He feels so wet and open and Harry keeps lapping at him like he’s a treat, teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue past his rim, groaning needily, his mouth making obscene smacking sounds as he eats him out.  
  
  
Louis is starting to pant, he’s so overwhelmed, making destroyed sounds into the crook of his arm, “ _ah…ahh…ah…”_ He ruts his hips down, dragging his hard, leaking cock against the sheets to get some much-needed friction.  
  
  
Harry pulls his mouth away. “Stay still, baby,” he whispers before setting back to work.  
  
  
“Can’t help it,” Louis gasps, shaking his head. “Can’t –  _oh_  – ” His voice breaks off with a whine as Harry sucks hard on his rim. He pulls Louis even closer, hands cupping his cheeks, spreading him open wide and licking in deep, burrowing his face in Louis’s arse, his eyes closed in bliss and his lips puffy and pink as they move against him, tongue wet and wriggling, groaning each time Louis whimpers and moans for him.  
  
  
Louis’s back arches with a needy whine, hips rocking backwards when Harry flattens his tongue over his hole, slowly lapping up and down, over and over again. A shiver wracks through Louis’s entire body and his cock twitches against his belly, eager to come. He’s so fucking _close_. “Oh, _god_ …fuck… _Daddy…_ _”_  
  
  
  
  
Everything stops.  
  
  
  
It all comes crashing down in a single, mortifying split second that seems to stretch on for an eternity. Louis’s hands unclench from the sheets, his eyes flying open with a gasp. He lies very still – hoping,  _praying_  that maybe Harry didn’t hear it…  
  
  
Harry’s tongue freezes against him in mid-lick, and then the touch is gone completely. And Louis  _knows_  he heard it. He definitely heard it. The prisoner that’s been clawing at the back of his throat has finally escaped.

  
  
It’s over, now. Everything is over. Louis buries his face in his hands with an anguished whimper, panicked and terrified and still so  _hard_ , so embarrassed he feels close to tears. He’s fucked everything up all over again. He’s fucked it up because Louis is fucked up. He’s fucked up, and disgusting, and Harry is going to leave him.  
  
  
He feels suspended on pins and needles as Harry stands up from the floor. He feels the mattress dip as he climbs onto the bed. He flinches when Harry’s hands touch his back, expecting to be thrown roughly from the bed and told to get out. Instead, Harry rolls him over onto his back.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, his hands still clutching at his face, boiling hot against his palms. He can’t bring himself to even  _look_  at Harry. “Sorry, I’m so sorry – I – I don’t – _I’m sorry_ ,” he just keeps muttering senselessly, mortified.  
  
  
Harry lies down beside him, bringing his lips in close to Louis’s ear.  
  
  
“Say it again.”  
  
  
Louis freezes, his breathing hitching in confusion. “W-what?”  
  
  
“Say it again,” Harry murmurs, softly.  
  
  
Louis lies very still, wondering if this is a test.  
  
  
Harry wraps his hands around Louis’s wrists, gently pulling them away from his face. “You’re not in trouble, baby, I promise.” He kisses the inside of Louis’s wrist. “Now say it again. Please? I want it.”  
  
  
Louis’s eyes slowly peer open, staring resolutely at the ceiling to avoid Harry’s piercing stare. “I…you mean you don’t think it’s… _weird?_ ”  
  
  
Harry’s lips brush below his ear and then he nudges his hips forward, pressing his cock against Louis’s hip, hard as steel. “…Does it feel like I think it’s weird?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, still not entirely convinced. Harry cups his face then, tilting his head so he can meet his eyes, his gaze soft. He kisses him, his thumb brushing at Louis’s cheekbone. “It’s okay,” he breathes. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby, it's okay if you want to call me that." He sucks at his bottom lip, nipping gently, “…I like it.”  
  
  
Louis swallows so hard he feels his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, “…you do?”  
  
  
Harry nods, pulling Louis in by the neck as he brings their lips together again, deepening the kiss. Louis makes a soft sound, going pliant as Harry kisses him, feeling a little dazed from this unexpected turn of events. His cock is still hard, throbbing dully from its denied release. Harry slips a hand between Louis’s legs, long fingers wrapping easily around his dick. And Louis sighs in gratitude, the ache immediately giving way to pure pleasure when Harry touches him there.  
  
  
Louis trembles, breathing shuddered against Harry’s lips as he pumps his fist over his cock, bringing him quickly back to the edge. Harry noses at his cheek, “you close, baby?”  
  
  
Louis’s head drops back with a nod, hands clutching at Harry’s biceps. Harry keeps stroking him, pulling the softest of whimpers from Louis’s lips. “ _Shit_ ,” Louis breathes, hips bucking up into Harry’s hand.  
  
  
Harry kisses at the corner of his lips. “You can call me it again, you know. If you want.”  
  
  
And fuck, Louis really does want to – he wants to use the word right now, with Harry’s hand rubbing his cock and an orgasm building at the base of his spine. He closes his eyes, his lip held between his teeth. “…Daddy,” he says, just a breath.  
  
  
Harry nods reassuringly, kissing his cheek. “That’s right, baby. Say it again.”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whispers, louder this time, the word still unfamiliar on his lips, but he’s getting off on it, hips rutting up from the bed, fucking into Harry’s tight fist.  
  
  
Harry keeps stroking him, murmuring little words of reassurance between kisses, and Louis shivers and moans, finally coming undone when Harry rubs his thumb in tiny circles over his tip. “Fuck – _Daddy_ ,” he whispers, shaking with it, his cock spurting all over Harry’s fingers.  
  
  
Harry watches him come, his pupils wide and blown with lust. He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “Can’t even believe you’re real,” he murmurs, ducking his head to suck at Louis’s neck. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”  
  
  
And Louis realises then that Harry hasn’t come yet, that his cock is stiff and nudging against Louis’s hip. He looks up at him, unsure. “Oh – do you want me to—?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, tipping Louis backwards before rolling on top of him. “I’ll take care of it,” he murmurs, “just let me kiss you some more.”  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound as their lips connect again, Harry licking needily into his mouth, moving his hips a bit to rub the tip of his cock over Louis’s belly. Then he pulls away, tucking a pillow under Louis’s head so that he’s comfortable. And Louis watches as he sits back on his knees, straddling Louis at the waist, his cock curving up against his abdomen and his hair falling at his shoulders. Then he wraps a hand around himself, and starts to pump.  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen, watching in fascination as Harry jerks off. He moves slowly at first, teasing himself, giving a little squeeze at the base before tugging his fist up to the head. And it’s a good thing Harry doesn’t seem to mind being watched, because Louis really can’t help but stare. He never thought that dicks could actually be considered beautiful until he saw Harry’s. It’s just perfect. Long and thick with a bulbous, perfectly rounded head and a single vein trailing up the underside. It’s blushing a deep red with the need to come, the skin near his balls drawing up as Harry tugs on it. And Louis feels his face heat, fidgeting a bit where he’s trapped between Harry’s thighs.  
  
  
Harry notices his fidgeting, and his hand slows to a stop, “…is this okay?”  
  
  
Louis glances up at him, blushing furiously. “Oh – no it’s fine, just…” he drops his gaze back to Harry’s cock, biting his lip, “it’s…really _big_ ,” he mutters, feeling stupid.  
  
  
Harry smiles at that, looking a bit smug as he gives himself another squeeze. “You can touch it, if you want.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip and hesitantly reaches out a hand, lightly dragging his fingertips down the line of Harry’s cock. The skin of it is so soft in contrast to how hard Harry is. He curls his fist around the head, stroking gently, and he hears Harry bite back a groan above him. A little bead of precome leaks out of his slit and lands on Louis’s finger, pearly and wet, and without thinking, Louis brings it to his lips, sucking at the taste of Harry, a bit salty and bittersweet.  
  
  
Harry watches him with parted lips, his eyes dark. Louis looks up at him innocently and Harry groans, leaning forward to kiss him. “ _Jesus_ ,” Harry gasps out, tightening his grip as he jerks himself, sounding desperate. “Baby – could you call me it again?”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whispers.  
  
  
Harry’s hips stutter forward. “ _Fuck_ , that’s so hot,” he murmurs against Louis’s lips, and Louis blushes at how turned on Harry is – can hardly believe that  _he’s_  responsible for this.  _He’s_  the one who turned Harry mad with want, like this.  
  
  
“You’re so fucking lovely,” Harry tells him, breathing laboured as he pumps his cock.  
  
  
They stare down between their bodies, watching Harry’s hand slide up and down his dick, dipping down to tease at his balls before pulling back up again. He thumbs at the head, spreading the precome there with a grunt, his hips jolting forward.  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis whispers once more against his cheek, somehow knowing exactly what Harry needs.  
  
  
Harry groans at that, flushed and panting as he tugs himself. He nips at Louis’s bottom lip. “Gonna come on you,” he gasps. “All over your pretty tummy, wanna claim you.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers with how much he wants that, and with a breathy moan, Harry spills all over Louis’s belly, stroking himself through his orgasm, his come  _marking_  Louis, adding to the wetness there from his earlier release.  
  
  
  
  
Afterwards, Harry carries him back into the shower to rinse the sheen of sweat and come from their skin. He holds Louis close the entire time, petting his hair.  
  
  
“How are you feeling, love?” Harry asks, checking on him, making sure he’s okay.  
  
  
Louis feels small and precious and taken care of, but he doesn’t say it, just whispers “good,” and nuzzles under Harry’s chin.

  
  
A kiss to his forehead has him blushing all over again.

 


	6. In the heat, where you lay

  
  
  
The next morning, Louis wakes up to Harry’s lips on his neck, pecking soft and slow. He peeks over his shoulder at him, and Harry smiles.  
  
  
“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
  
Louis rolls over inside the crook of Harry’s arm, nosing at the front of his shirt. “I don’t mind,” he whispers, yawning like a kitten.  
  
  
Harry’s heart swells at the sight. His sub is always adorable in the mornings, all sleep-rumbled and soft with puffy eyes and pouted lips. He drops a kiss to his temple. “Gonna make a tea. Would you like some?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his eyes falling closed again as Harry climbs out of bed. He burrows into the space he leaves behind, where Harry’s body heat clings to the sheets, his scent on the pillow. He tries in vain to drift back off to sleep, but his bladder won’t stop nagging him. He really needs to pee. With a sigh, Louis finally gives in, rolling out of bed and padding to the en-suite. Afterwards, he brushes his teeth and drags a comb through his messy bedhead, his hair fluffy and sticking up in random places after having slept on it damp.   
  
  
When he looks up at the mirror, he gasps out softly at his reflection, confused. There’s a rather noticeable mark near the nape of his neck, a deep plum colour imprinted against the skin and – how the hell did _that_ get there?  
  
  
… _Oh_. It dawns on him, then. He remembers Harry pinning him to the bed the night before, sucking and nibbling at that very spot. Louis blushes faintly at the memory, pressing his fingertips against the bruise… _A love bite._ He likes the way it throbs, likes feeling claimed. He’s _Harry’s_. No one else’s. No one else would ever stand a chance.  
  
  
_Louis_ never stood a chance.  
  
  
  
  
It’s cold in the bedroom as he burrows back under the sheets. The morning sun spills in through tiny cracks in the curtains. Louis props himself up against the pillows and slips his black framed glasses on, scrolling idly through the apps on his phone. It isn’t long before Harry comes back, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He sets Louis’s down on the bedside table and then disappears into the bathroom. Louis hears the toilet flush, the splash of water in the sink.  
  
  
They have their tea in bed that morning, not saying much, just watching the ceiling fan spin. It’s times like this that Louis loves the most, when everything is quiet and still, and for a moment, it almost feels like he and Harry are the only two people on Earth. Like time has slowed down just for them.  
  
  
If three weeks ago you had told him that pretty soon, this would be his life…well, he would have said you were out of your mind. Because things like this don’t happen to Louis, don’t exist.  
  
  
  
He thinks he would do anything to keep it.  
  
  
  
  
Harry finishes his tea first and sets it aside on the nightstand, reaching his arms up over his head with a yawn. He stretches out sideways then, resting his head on Louis’s soft belly as a pillow. His eyes peer open, blinking sleepily up at his sub.  
  
  
“Look cute with your glasses on,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
Louis’s cheeks turn a bit pink at that. He still isn’t quite used to being complimented so much. “Thanks,” he whispers, keeping his gaze held on his mug.  
  
  
There’s butterfly wings knocking at his insides, and he reaches out a hand to touch Harry’s hair, languidly stroking his fingers through the soft, silky strands. Harry groans in appreciation, tipping his chin to kiss Louis’s tummy over his t-shirt.  
  
  
Louis bites back a grin at the affection, taking another sip of his tea. Then he clears his throat.  
  
  
“…Harry?”  
  
  
“Hm?”  
  
  
“Do you have work today?”  
  
  
“No.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t mention how relieved he is to hear that. He taps his finger against the glass of his mug. “Oh…what are you going to do, then?”  
  
  
Harry lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever you want. I’m all yours today.”  
  
  
“…Really?”  
  
  
Harry nods, his eyes still closed. “Mhm. Have anything in mind?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, swirling his tea around in tiny circles. “…Kind of just want to spend the whole day in bed.”  
  
  
Harry quirks his brow then, smirking up at him suggestively. “Is that so?”  
  
  
Louis blushes at the implication. “Not – not like _that_ ,” he hastens to explain. “Just – I’d like to cuddle, I mean.”  
  
  
“Hmm,” Harry hums in thought, “cuddling does sound nice.” He pushes Louis’s shirt up to press a kiss to his bare hipbone, glancing back up at him with an adorable pout. “But does that mean I can’t make you cum at all?”  
  
  
Louis fidgets, averting his gaze. “Well…didn’t say that, either,” he mumbles, embarrassed.  
  
  
Harry just laughs, low and warm, nuzzling his face against the cotton of Louis’s shirt.   
  
  
  
  
After draining the rest of his tea, Louis sets the mug aside on the bedside table, followed by his folded-up glasses. He fluffs his pillow into place and lies back down on his side, in hopes that Harry will scoot in and cuddle him from behind. A moment later, he does, draping an arm around Louis’s waist. He pulls him back against his chest, their legs slotted together, and Louis is little in his arms.  
  
  
“Is this what you had in mind?” Harry whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods. “Mhmm.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry tells him, kissing his hair. “You’re very cuddly, you know.”  
  
  
And Louis hides a smile against his pillow.  
  
  
  
  
They lay like that for a while, warm and cozy and pleasant, with Harry’s hand curled around Louis’s hip. His fingertips lightly stroke at the skin there, and Louis’s eyes fall closed at the touch, drifting in and out of consciousness.  
  
  
Eventually, he feels Harry shift behind him. “Louis,” he says, breaking the long silence.  
  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
  
“Are you awake?”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Yeah.”  
  
  
“Good...I need to talk to you,” he says, “about last night.”  
  
  
Without warning, Louis tenses in his arms, eyes widening.  
  
  
… _Last night?_  
  
  
He swallows thickly, his heart beat picking up in trepidation, “…what about it?”  
  
  
“Well, you know…I think we should talk about what you called me.”  
  
  
Louis’s hands nervously clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms, _mortified_ …He had called Harry _Daddy_ , last night.  
  
  
At the time, it didn’t seem so bad. Caught up in the heat of the moment, overwhelmed and crying out as Harry licked into him with his tongue. But now, in the harsh light of day, those same feelings of confusion and guilt and shame have come rushing back to Louis, sinking low in his stomach…Maybe Harry really _didn’t_ like to be called that, after all. Maybe now he’s going to confirm what Louis has felt all along, that he really is a freak.  
  
  
Panicked, he swallows past the lump rising in his throat. “It won’t happen again,” he mutters, hoping the promise is enough for Harry to decide to keep him. And then he’s wriggling out of Harry’s arms, planning to excuse himself to the bathroom to escape this humiliation.  
  
  
Harry holds him back however, sensing his discomfort and tightening his arms around him. “Woah, love. This – it’s nothing _bad_ ,” he assures, stroking a hand at Louis’s chest in attempts to calm him down. “I just want to talk.”  
  
  
Louis buries his face against his pillow, shaking his head. “I’m…it’s _embarrassing_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry frowns, feeling an instinctual need to comfort his distressed sub. “Baby, look at me,” he murmurs. He gently turns Louis over so that they’re facing each other, brushing his fringe back from his forehead. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything. It’s just me, yeah?” he soothes. “Besides…” he takes hold of Louis’s thigh, hiking it up over his hip to bring their bodies flush together. “I thought I made it clear last night, how much I liked it.”  
  
  
Louis bites uncertainly at his lip, staring at the sleeve of Harry’s t-shirt. “…you’re not just saying that?”  
  
  
“Of course not,” Harry murmurs. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to Louis’s forehead. “Louis, we have to be honest with each other, about the things we like and what we’re comfortable with.” His eyes are soft, and his hand rubs small circles against Louis’s hip. “…I want to satisfy every need that you have. To do that, I need you to tell me what you want.”  
  
  
Louis frowns, twisting his fingers together. How can Harry come out and just _say_ things like that, so easily? He’s always so confident, so sure of himself. Louis can only ever wish he could be that way. Instead, Harry has to hold his hand like he’s a child, walking him through everything, step by step. It must be utterly exhausting. Louis doesn’t know why the hell he hasn’t left him, yet.  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a moment. “It’s just – I feel—” he sighs. “It’s hard saying things out loud.”  
  
  
“I know, love,” Harry whispers, his hand a comforting weight on his side. “I think you’re getting better about it, though, don't you? You feel more comfortable now than the first night?”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Yeah, of course.”  
  
  
“And you trust me?”  
  
  
Louis exhales. “Yes,” he whispers, and it isn’t a lie. He’s never trusted anyone this much in his life.  
  
  
Harry smiles softly, seeming relieved. He pulls him against his chest and Louis tucks himself under Harry’s chin, his little hand curled around his collarbone, waiting for him to continue.  
  
  
Harry is quiet for a moment, thinking, as he cards his fingers through Louis’s hair. “Would you like to call me that from now on?”  
  
  
Louis blushes faintly, then slowly nods his head. He really, really would like that. “...I think so.”  
  
  
“All the time, or just in bed?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip in consideration. “Uhm…just – just in bed, I think? But it might, uhm…might slip out other times, though.”  
  
  
Harry nods. “That’s alright.” He scratches his nails at the nape of Louis’s neck, raising goosebumps across the delicate skin there. “And what about you? Is there anything you’d like for me to call you?”  
  
  
Louis fidgets, fisting a hand in Harry’s shirt. “Just – I like when you call me _baby_ , and like, tell me I’m – that I’m sweet, and stuff,” he whispers against Harry’s neck, his eyes clenched shut and his voice very, very small.  
  
  
Harry pulls back and smiles, nuzzling at Louis’s nose to get him to open his eyes, staring back at him. “That’s ‘cause you are sweet.”  
  
  
He leans in to bring their mouths together in soft, wet little brushes of lips. And Louis melts into the mattress. He tilts his chin up obediently as Harry takes his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking at it. His hand gropes at Louis’s thigh, wrapping it even tighter up around his waist so that their groins align. And then he delves inside Louis’s mouth with the tip of his tongue, flicking gently.  
  
  
“My sweet boy,” Harry whispers between kisses, and Louis shivers in his arms.  
  
  
“… _Daddy_.”  
  
  
Harry growls low in his throat at the word, his cock twitching against Louis’s inner thigh. He releases a shuddered breath, grinding his hips forward, “…feel what you do to me?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry stares at him, squeezing possessively at his hip. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about…A new rule of mine.”  
  
  
Louis swallows hard. “What is it?”  
  
  
Harry observes him for a moment, slipping a hand up the back of his shirt to feel his warm skin. “I don’t want you to touch yourself,” he tells him. “At all. No touching and no making yourself come, unless I give you my permission.”  
  
  
Louis releases the breath he’s been holding, effortlessly drawn to the dominant tone of Harry’s voice. It stirs something visceral in Louis, has every cell in his body screaming at him to _submit_.  
  
  
“Does that sound fair?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis nods.  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry presses, seeking a verbal response.  
  
  
“Oh – uhm, yes. I won’t touch.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, pleased. “Good. And one last thing,” he says, and Louis listens attentively. “…I think now is a good time for you to submit to me more.”  
  
  
Louis audibly gulps. “H-how?”  
  
  
Harry hums, his hand drifting down Louis’s back to cup his bum. “…I’d really like to spank you.”  
  
  
Louis’s breath catches in his chest, tremors of fear and excitement lighting up his nerve endings all at once.  
  
  
Harry watches Louis closely for his reaction and then a faint smirk ghosts at his lips. He moves away and sits up against the headboard of the bed, a pillow tucked behind his back. Then he kicks the duvet down to his feet, baring his lap. He pats a hand at his thigh, coaxing gently. “Up you get, love.”  
  
  
Louis’s pulse pounds in his throat, his heart racing in apprehension, and strangely, _arousal_. He moves slowly, crawling forward to drape himself over Harry’s lap.  
  
  
“Good boy,” Harry murmurs down to him. He strokes his hand from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back, slipping his fingers under the elastic of Louis’s waistband. And then he slowly peels back his joggers and briefs, until his arse is exposed to the cool air in the room.  
  
  
Harry admires the view unabashedly; Louis has _such_ a perfect bum, the skin of it pale and baby soft and framed with tan lines. His fingers knead at the flesh, pulling his cheeks apart just to watch them fall back into place, jiggling a bit. His mouth waters at the thought of how flushed and red it will turn in a moment.  
  
  
Louis gnaws hesitantly at his lower lip. “I – is this going to hurt?” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry pauses his movements, pulling his gaze away from Louis’s backside. “I’m not going to hurt you, Louis. You’re not being punished. This is just to establish that I’m the one in control.” He leans down then, kissing at the soft spot behind Louis’s ear. “Do you remember your word?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, burying his face in his folded arms, “…yes.”  
  
  
Harry straightens back up, placing a hand at the small of Louis’s back to steady him. “Think seven should be good,” he says, and Louis closes his eyes, bracing himself.  
  
  
After a moment that seems to take ages to pass, Harry pulls his arm back, eyes held on his target. He drops it back down again and finally, his hand collides with a loud _smack_ against Louis’s arse.  
  
  
“ _Oh!_ ” Louis squeaks out, giving a shocked jolt in Harry’s lap.  
  
  
Harry pauses briefly after the first strike, allowing Louis a moment to collect himself. He sucks in a steadying breath, heart racing, his hands clenching in the sheets. He focuses on keeping still, waiting for Harry to spank him again.  
  
  
His hand strikes Louis’s bum, one right after the other, and Louis struggles to make sense of this sudden rush of mixed feelings: the tears stinging his eyes, and the dull _throb_ that’s sent straight to his cock each time Harry’s hand connects with the tingling skin of his arse. He feels little and exposed and _embarrassed_ , and for some reason, it’s turning him on like mad, his daddy giving him his very first spanking.  
  
  
Twice more, Harry lowers his hand, and it _stings_ , but somehow…it’s _satisfying_ , sending tiny little shockwaves and sparks up and down Louis’s spine. It leaves him squirmy and flushed and breathless, getting spanked over his daddy’s knee. He blushes shyly at the thought, hiding his face in the crook of his arm and reveling in how _small_ he feels. Amazingly, he’s even getting hard from this, his cock thickening up where it‘s trapped against Harry’s thigh. And Louis whimpers, pushing his bum out prettily, wanting to be so, _so_ good for Harry.  
  
  
After the sixth strike, Harry gropes at his arse, getting a feel of the hot, blushing skin beneath his palm. He lowers his hand one final time, landing with a _slap_. Louis lets out a gasp that turns into a soft moan, making Harry smirk… _So he likes to be spanked, then?_  
  
  
  
When they’ve finished, Harry maneuvers Louis from his lap, gently lying him back down on the bed. Louis’s cheeks are pink and his eyes are a bit wet, and Harry leans in to kiss his little nose. “Feeling okay?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, even more quiet and bashful than usual, “yes, Daddy.”  
  
  
And Harry _adores_ him.  
  
  
“You did so well, love,” he murmurs, stroking at his fringe. “Took everything perfectly.”  
  
  
Louis practically glows with pride at the praise. He frowns, however, when Harry stands up from the bed. He really wants to cuddle right now, possibly more than ever. "Where are you going?”  
  
  
“Just gonna get something from the bathroom,” Harry assures him, “it will only take a second.”  
  
  
True to his word, Harry returns a moment later, carrying a jar in his hands. He climbs back on the bed and has Louis lie on his tummy, hugging a pillow to his chest. Then he unscrews the lid from the jar.  
  
  
Curious, Louis peeks over his shoulder at him. “What’s that?”  
  
  
“Soothing lotion,” Harry tells him, dipping into the jar and coating his fingers. The lotion smells of lavender, and he spreads it onto Louis’s bum. “Your skin is delicate here. Don’t want it getting irritated.”  
  
  
Louis nods, shivering a bit as Harry rubs the cold lotion into the hot, reddened skin of his freshly spanked arse. It soothes away the burn, leaving behind a nice, cooling feel. And Louis sighs, smiling to himself as Harry takes care of him.  
  
  
“You did _so_ well, baby,” Harry tells him again, stroking and petting. “I love how good you are for me.”  
  
  
Louis feels his heart swell up like a balloon, his skin buzzing happily. He can’t explain how nice it feels, to know that Harry is pleased with him. He practically _craves_ his approval.  
  
  
Harry rubs the lotion in until Louis’s bum is slick and buttery-smooth and then he lowers his head, blowing across the skin to help it dry. Louis trembles at the feeling, reminded that his cock is still hard and aching against his belly. Without thinking, he ruts his hips down into the mattress for relief.  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry warns then, “you’re not to do that.”  
  
  
Louis quickly halts his movements, embarrassed. “ _Oh_. I – sorry. Forgot.”  
  
  
Harry hums, sounding intrigued rather than disappointed. He trails a fingertip down the line of Louis’s spinal cord, pressing at the dimples there at the base. “…You’re hard?” he asks.  
  
  
Guilty, Louis nods his head.  
  
  
“Let’s see, then,” Harry instructs. “Turn over.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, slowly rolling onto his back. Sure enough, his prick is pink and stiff, curving up towards his tummy.  
  
  
Harry makes no move to touch him, just stares. “Is this from your spanking?”  
  
  
Louis’s mouth has gone dry. “Yes,” he admits, feeling unsure, “erm…is that bad?”  
  
  
Harry’s lips twist into a smile. “No, baby. I really like how responsive you are.”  
  
  
Harry leans down to kiss him then, licking into his mouth while his hand drifts down Louis’s torso. He takes hold of his cock, lightly stroking up the shaft, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the tip in slow, tiny circles. And Louis whimpers into his mouth, sensitive.  
  
  
Harry smiles against his lips. “Does that feel good?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head. He bites back a whine of protest when Harry takes his hand away, but then his skin prickles with anticipation as he begins to slither down his body, making himself comfortable between Louis’s parted thighs.  
  
  
He drops a kiss to the pink tip of Louis’s cock, licking gently at the head. And Louis’s lips part, releasing a tiny puff of air. His toes curl as Harry wraps his mouth around him, sucking on his swollen cockhead.  
  
  
“ _God_ , Harry.”  
  
  
Harry lifts up one of Louis’s thighs then, draping it over his shoulder to scoot in closer. He sinks his mouth down on him a few times, slow and teasing, before pulling back off completely. He reaches up a hand to cradle Louis’s balls, rubbing at them in his palm and making Louis jolt, hissing in sensitivity. With his eyes clouded over with lust, Harry blows against the wet tip of Louis’s prick, watching for the way it makes Louis's squirm, keening for Harry's mouth, again.  
  
  
A bead of precome bubbles out from Louis’s slit, pearly and wet, and Harry delves back in, catching it on his tongue. “Even taste sweet,” Harry wonders aloud, almost to himself, and Louis blushes as he slowly sinks back down.  
  
  
Louis moans prettily, and Harry makes a possessive noise low in his throat at the sound. He suckles at the tip, his lips wet and pink and puffy, taking Louis deeper. He bobs his head, curling his tongue around the underside of Louis’s cockhead each time he pulls up and –  
  
  
“ _Oh_ …close – close, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry pulls off with a _pop_ , rubbing his hands at Louis’s hips. “You can come in my mouth, baby,” he murmurs, before taking him between his lips again.  
  
  
Louis is panting, his hips bucking up slightly from the bed, and Harry tightens the suction of his mouth. He bobs his head faster, and Louis’s eyes roll back at the feeling, whimpering as he’s finally sent over the edge. He spills down Harry's throat with a moan, tiny hands twisted in the sheets.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just as Louis requested, they spend the rest of the day in bed, cuddling close and falling in and out of sleep, watching old movies on the plasma television that hangs on the wall opposite the bed. They only get up for bathroom breaks, or to wander downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat. Harry keeps Louis tucked under his arm, bringing their plates back up the stairs to eat in bed.   
  
  
That night, they shower together and change into fresh pyjamas, before returning to their familiar sanctuary under the sheets. They lay like spoons, Harry nuzzling at the back of Louis’s neck. “Have to go back to work tomorrow,” he tells him, regretfully.  
  
  
Louis just nods, taking hold of Harry’s hand to lace their fingers together.  
  
  
He wonders how it’s possible, to feel like he misses him already.  
  
  
  
  
He wonders if he’s falling in love.  
  
  



	7. Claimed

“Barbecue or salt and vinegar?” Louis calls over his shoulder.  
  
  
From the den, Zayn shouts back, “Ehm…barbecue.”  
  
  
Louis isn’t entirely sure  _why_  the crisps are kept on the topmost shelf of the kitchen cabinet. “Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath. He’s stood on his tiptoes, reaching up high with the tip of his tongue held between his teeth, fingertips scraping against the plastic.  _Almost there_.  
  
  
He thinks fondly of what Harry would do if he were here, how he would step up from behind and press a kiss to his hair, effortlessly reaching the bag for him.  _“Here you go, love.”_  
  
  
Louis sighs wistfully. His dom won’t be home from work for hours.  
  
  
Back in the den, he plops down on the couch, tearing triumphantly into the barbecue crisps. He hasn’t bothered to change out of his pyjamas yet, still clad in joggers and a soft grey hoodie, bare feet and a messy fringe. It’s comfortable, so be it. To his right, Zayn lies slumped back against the armrest with the television remote in his hand, flipping idly through the channels.  
  
  
“Wait, go back!” Louis insists after a moment.  
  
  
Zayn clicks back to the previous channel, where Simba and Nala are singing “ _I Just Can’t Wait to be King_ ” with a chorus of safari animals.  
  
  
“ _The Lion King_ ,” Zayn says with a small smile, setting the remote down. “Haven’t seen this movie in years.”  
  
  
“First time seeing it in HD, too,” Louis jokes, nodding to the massive big-screen television on the wall.  
  
  
Zayn stretches his legs out, digging his toes under Louis’s thigh for warmth. “We’re probably too old to be watching this, y’know.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, popping a crisp into his mouth. “Just another reason I can’t wait to have kids, I’ll have an excuse to watch all the stuff I loved when I was young.”  
  
  
Zayn makes grabby-hands for the crisp bag. “Won’t be able to use that excuse for years, myself.”

  
  
Louis frowns, “…Liam doesn’t want kids?”  
  
  
“It’s not just him,” Zayn clarifies, “I don’t want kids, either. At least not anytime soon. We’ve talked it out already.”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Well, it’s good that you’re both on the same page, then.”  
  
  
Zayn makes a soft sound of affirmation, glancing sideways at Louis. “What about you? Like, I know how much you want kids, but…does Harry?”  
  
  
Louis considers this, chewing thoughtfully. “I… _think_  he does. We haven’t really discussed it. I mean, there was one time when he said he – that he’d love to give me children, but…he didn’t say when.”  
  
  
Zayn yawns widely against the back of his hand. “Probably won’t be too long. He seems like the type.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, picking self-consciously at the hem of his shirt, “…gonna be hard to get me pregnant when we haven’t even had sex, yet.”  
  
  
At this, Zayn looks only mildly surprised. “Really? Hmph…surprised he’s held out, this long. We’ve been here for over a month, now.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes half-heartedly. “Yes, I  _know_ , Zayn.”  
  
  
“Well…I’m sure it’s not because he doesn’t  _want_  to, Louis…he’s probably just…”  
  
  
“Waiting until I’m more comfortable, I know,” Louis finishes quietly. He smiles down at his lap. “…He really does take good care of me.” And really, it doesn’t even feel like he’s  _worth_  it, half the time. He keeps that part to himself.  
  
  
  
Sometime later, when the film is nearly finished and Simba is charging back home to The Pridelands, they hear a car door slam from outside. Louis sits up to look over the back of the couch, glancing curiously into the foyer. His ears prick up at the sound of a key turning in the deadbolt lock of the front door…It was too early in the day for Harry or Liam to be home. They usually didn’t get back from work until well into the afternoon…  
  
  
Naturally, when the door opens and Harry steps inside, Louis leaps up from the couch. “You’re home early!” he calls, dashing into the foyer.  
  
  
Harry grins when he sees him, lifting an arm to pull him into a hug. Louis holds on tight, nuzzling happily at his chest. If he were a cat, he’d be purring.  
  
  
Harry chuckles, taken aback. “Was only gone for a few hours, love.”  
  
  
“Oh!” Louis pulls away, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry.”  
  
  
Harry pats him on the bum, nodding towards the staircase. “I’m gonna go get changed.”  
  
  
“Erm…can I come with you?” Louis asks, shifting on his feet. He always worried that Harry would get annoyed with him for being too clingy.  
  
  
“’Course you can,” Harry tells him, seeming unfazed as Louis trails after him.  
  
  
They pass by the den, and Zayn glances up from his place on the couch, looking questioningly to Harry. “No Liam?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Sorry, mate. He had to take a conference call. Shouldn’t be too long, now.”  
  
  
Zayn just nods with a shrug, reaching for the bag of crisps again.  
  
  
  
  
  
Upstairs, Louis sits quietly on the edge of the bed, smiling to himself. It’s honestly kind of silly, how effortlessly his mood is lifted whenever Harry comes home. He watches as he moves almost gracefully about the room, pulling at his tie until it’s loose and shrugging out of the dark blue suit jacket he wore to work.  
  
  
Louis lightly kicks his feet against the divan. “Did you have a good day?”  
  
  
Harry nods, slipping the white-gold Rolex from his wrist. “It went by fast. Couldn’t believe when it got to be two o’clock and I had no more appointments.” He smiles, both dimples out. “Practically ran out the door, just in case something else came up.”  
  
  
Louis smirks, biting at the corner of his lip. “That’s not very professional of you.”  
  
  
Harry’s hands drop to the fly of his trousers. He pops the button out and slowly pulls the zip down, grinning cheekily, his eyes on Louis. “I can be  _very_  professional when I need to be.”  
  
  
He turns then, strolling into his walk-in closet, and Louis rolls his eyes, following after him to linger in the doorway. It smells like Harry’s cologne inside, Armani clinging to the clothes. He watches him undress, long fingers working expertly at the buttons of his top, until the butterfly on his belly is revealed. Out of all of Harry’s many tattoos, the butterfly is possibly Louis’s favourite. He likes to trace the outline with his fingertip, likes watching the muscles of Harry’s abdomen shudder at the touch.  
  
  
Harry steps out of his shoes and pulls his trousers off, until he’s left wearing nothing but a pair of dark grey briefs. He scratches lazily at his hip. “I’m actually about to head out again,” he says, sifting through his wardrobe for a change of clothes.  
  
  
“…Oh,” Louis nods, unsure if that means he’s invited or not.  
  
  
Harry glances over his shoulder at him. “Feel like coming with me?”  
  
  
Louis smiles then, relieved.  “Yeah, ‘course.” He turns away before pausing, looking back at Harry. “Uhm, what should I wear?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs. “Just something casual, we’re only going shopping. Maybe have an early dinner.”  
  
  
Louis nods and then scurries to his own closet. He decides on some jeggings and a navy blue v-neck top, slipping into his old, scuffed-up Vans. Then he brushes his teeth in the en-suite, fiddling with his fringe until it’s decent. When he steps back out, he finds Harry standing near the bed, now fully dressed and scrolling through his iPhone. He glances up at Louis, his gaze dropping to his thighs before slowly raking back up to his face. “You look nice.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, tugging shyly at the hem of his shirt, “thanks.”  
  
  
Harry grabs his wallet from the bedside table, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Ready to go?”  
  
  
And Louis nods, following him out of the bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
They take the Range Rover into the city, getting caught up in the slow crawl of congested downtown traffic. Louis doesn’t mind, of course, because it means he gets to hear Harry sing along to the songs on the radio, his voice low and a bit raspy, warm like melted caramel. (Louis used to hate Def Leppard, but listening to Harry sing “ _Pour Some Sugar On Me_ ” into the steering wheel just might have turned him into a diehard fan.)  
  
  
They’re stopped at a redlight when Harry reaches across the center console and rests a hand on his thigh, squeezing just below his knee. “Are you hungry, baby?”  
  
  
Louis shifts in his seat. He hasn’t eaten anything today besides those barbecue crisps. “Am a little hungry,” he mutters.  
  
  
“What would you like?”  
  
  
“Uhm…” Louis shrugs. “You pick. You’re better at picking than I am.”  
  
  
So Harry decides on an authentic Greek restaurant just outside the city, tucked between the jewelry repair store and an old antique shoppe. They sit across from each other in a booth by the front window, watching as people pass by outside on the street. Louis doesn’t understand the food titles, so Harry orders for him, handing their folded-up menus to the waitress. While they wait, she brings them a plate of warm toast points and fresh hummus, and it tastes a hundred times better than it looks. Louis spreads some onto a bit of toast, munching happily, and Harry watches him with a small smile.  
  
  
Louis feels his cheeks warm from being watched, and he takes a sip of his lemon water. “So, uhm, what are we going shopping for?”  
  
  
Harry unwraps his silverware, tucking the napkin in his lap. “I’d like to pick up a gift for Gemma. She found out she’s pregnant, today.”  
  
  
Louis raises his brow. “Really? Oh, wow. This will be her first baby, right?”  
  
  
Harry nods. “Yup. I had to take a three-way call with her and mum at work. They both cried,” he says with a fond smile.  
  
  
Louis nibbles at his toast point. “When is she due?”  
  
  
“The seventh of February. A week early, and we might share a birthday.”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Gemma must be really excited.”  
  
  
“She is,” Harry agrees, “and if she’s anything like our mum, she’s sure to be amazing at it.”  
  
  
Louis smiles. He honestly  _adores_  how close Harry is with his family, even though it can be a bit intimidating at times. “I’d like to meet them.”  
  
  
Harry chuckles, his arms folded against the tablecloth. “I’m sure you will sometime soon. They have a tendency to show up unannounced.”  
  
  
Louis laughs, swirling the straw around inside his water glass. “…Just hope they’ll like me,” he says after a moment, his voice quiet.  
  
  
Harry quirks his brow. “What do you mean? Of course they’ll like you.”  
  
  
Louis fidgets. “You don’t think they’ll think I’m too…”  _poor, ugly, immature_ , “…young?”  
  
  
“’m not  _that_  old,” Harry teases. He reaches across the table then, touching Louis’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, smiling down at their entwined fingers. “When they see how happy you make me, that’s all they’ll care about. Promise.”  
  
  
Louis stares at him, caught off guard. He quickly looks away, dropping his gaze down to the tablecloth with a smile.  
  
  
He doesn’t understand it, but it’s still nice to hear.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The shopping mall is massive, made up of several high-end department stores and clusters of small designer boutiques. Harry parks his Range Rover along the curb outside of the parking garage, cutting the engine. He opens the passenger door for Louis as always and helps him climb out. They’re quickly approached by one of the valet servicemen, and Harry thanks him with a smile as he hands over the key.  
  
  
Inside the mall, it’s cool and bright with stained-glass windows lining the ceiling, only somewhat crowded. A soft stream of voices echoes off the walls, carrying just above the splashes of water emitted from a large, circular fountain that’s centered in the atrium, its stone basin scattered with coins. Louis looks around in slight awe. He’s never been here, before.  
  
  
The people are beautiful. Beautiful and wealthy. There’s men in business suits with mobile phones pressed tight to their ears, teenaged girls in pleated skirts and cardigans, their forearms draped with designer handbags. Mostly though, it’s women, both young and old and all dressed to the nines, their stiletto heels click-clacking on the marble tile. Their eyes go straight to Harry as they pass by, throwing him a range of interested, sultry looks. And Louis frowns, tucking his finger into Harry’s back belt loop.

  
  
Harry pauses near the fountain, oblivious to the fact that he’s being ogled. “Hmm…where to first?” he wonders, mostly to himself. Then he turns to Louis. “Anything in particular you’d like to shop for?”  
  
  
“Oh, uhm…dunno,” Louis shrugs. “Haven’t been in a while.”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. He glances down at Louis’s shoes, with their scuffmarks and worn laces. The sole of the left toe is peeling off. “Maybe some new shoes?” he offers gently.  
  
  
Louis chuckles, twisting his foot around to display the worst of the damage. “Guess these are about ready for the bin, huh?”  
  
  
Harry inclines his head with a smile. “There’s a shoe store upstairs, c’mon.”  
  
  
They make their way towards the escalator, veering to the right once they’ve reached the second level. Louis walks a half step behind Harry, following him into the shoe store. Somehow, they all smell distinctly the same inside, like leather and boot polish. Go figure.  
  
  
Louis browses through the aisles and towering shelves of shoeboxes, pausing when he finally comes across some Converse and Vans that catch his eye. Then he sits next to Harry in the small waiting area in the back corner of the store, until the saleswoman returns with each pair in his size.  
  
  
Harry watches as Louis slips out of his old shoes, smiling fondly. “Little feet,” he murmurs.  
  
  
Louis wrinkles his nose at the observation.  
  
  
“What?” Harry questions innocently. “It’s cute.”  
  
  
Louis ignores him, stepping into the Converse and admiring how they look. He walks around in small circles, testing out each pair. They fit perfectly, just a bit snug at the heel, but it will be easy enough to break them in.  
  
  
“Like them?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis nods, “yeah, they’re really nice.” He places them neatly back into their boxes once he’s finished trying them on, looking between each pair. He pinches his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, contemplating. “Just trying to decide between the Converse and the Vans.”  
  
  
Harry shrugs easily. “Why not get both?”  
  
  
Louis grimaces and pats his hand against his pocket, where a small wad of his saved up cash is tucked inside. “Uhm, I don’t think I have enough money for both.”  
  
  
Harry furrows his brow, looking back at him incredulously. Then he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Baby,” he says, “you don’t have to pay for anything. I’ll take care of it.”  
  
  
Louis vehemently shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that—”  
  
  
“I want to, though,” Harry says, standing up from the couch. He gathers up both boxes with an air of finality, tucking them under his arm.  
  
  
Louis nibbles worriedly at his lip, and Harry looks back at him with a frown, his shoulders slumping. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, looking to the side. “Just, I don’t know…I feel bad?”  
  
  
“But why? I promise, it’s no trouble.”  
  
  
Louis sighs, glancing around self-consciously. He’s relieved to find that they’re alone, the shoe store relatively empty save for the saleswoman behind the front counter. “It’s just – I mean. Obviously you have a lot of money and I…well, I don’t have much at all, really, but,” he shrugs again. “Just don’t want you to think, like…I’m using you?”  
  
  
Harry raises his brow, and then his eyes soften. “Of course not. Louis, I  _know_  that’s not true.” He leans down, pecking a kiss to his cheek before nuzzling against his ear. “I don’t care about the money, love. Honestly. I’d just really, really like to spoil you.”  
  
  
Louis blushes faintly, “oh.”  
  
  
“Is that okay?” Harry kisses his temple. “Will you let me?”  
  
  
Louis nods slowly. “I – yeah, Harry. If you really want to…”  
  
  
“I do,” Harry smiles, “wanna give you so much.”  
  
  
Louis reaches out a hand then, his fingers pinching at the hem of Harry’s shirt to keep him close. “Thank you,” he whispers against his cheek.  
  
  
“You’re more than welcome,” Harry whispers back. Then he takes his hand, and Louis follows him quietly to the front counter.  
  
  
  
  
The remainder of the afternoon is spent exploring all corners of the mall, wandering in and out of different stores, and just…shopping. Literally. And Louis has never known  _anything_  like this.  
  
  
In his old life, still not too far away from the one he’s living now, this would have been completely unheard of. Louis was never once fortunate enough to know what it was like for money to not be an issue, to be able to look between two things and know he could actually get  _both_  instead of having to choose only one or the other. He walks around in a slight daze as Harry buys him new clothes, lots of graphic tees and jumpers and skinny jeans and soft beanies, gathering things into his arms as soon as Louis points them out and smiling all the while.  
  
  
Some things Louis doesn’t point out at all, but Harry swipes them up for him anyway; a shiny new case for his iPhone and some really nice headphones and a bottle of designer cologne that has Louis’s jaw dropping open a bit when he spots the price-tag.  
  
  
Still, Louis can’t help but to feel guilty each time they approach the cash register. “Are you sure?” he whispers, tugging warily at Harry’s elbow. But Harry just presses a kiss to his hair, “ _It’s nothing, baby,”_ and pulls out his credit card.  
  
  
When they’ve finished most of their shopping, Harry calls for the valet service to take their bags off their hands, sending them down to the Range Rover with a nice tip. Then they head off to one of the department stores, so Harry can find a gift for Gemma.  
  
  
He pauses as they pass the men’s formalwear section, inundated with tuxedos, blazers, and dress suits. “That reminds me,” Harry says then, looking back at Louis. “I have some work events coming up.”  
  
  
“Events?” Louis asks.  
  
  
Harry nods. “Galas and charity balls, things like that. I’d like you to come with me, if you want.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs easily. “Sure, of course.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. “You’ll need some formalwear then, yeah?” He inclines his head. “Go ahead and pick out whatever you like. I’m gonna pop over to the women’s section to pick up Gemma’s gift, it should only take a moment.”  
  
  
Louis nods his head. “’kay.”  
  
  
Curious and now on his own, Louis wanders through the racks of clothes, not entirely sure where to begin. He’s never had to buy anything  _formal_ , before. His wardrobe has always straddled that fine line between casual and literally-just-rolled-out-of-bed comfortable. So, he starts out by sorting through the selection of suit pants, finding a few pairs in his size to try on, all in black. Then he browses through the rack of blazers, running his fingertips across the different materials of suede and polyester.  
  
  
“Would you like some assistance?”  
  
  
Louis startles at the voice, turning around. He’s faced with one of the sale’s associates. A young man, probably just a few years older than Louis, with dark features and a finely sculpted jaw. Louis notices vaguely that he looks a bit like Zayn, although the aura he gives off is definitely a dominant one. There’s a nametag pinned to his chest that reads, “ _Elliot_ ,” in a neat, cursive scrawl.    
  
  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a polite smile, motioning to the clothing rack. “Need help finding a blazer?”  
  
  
Louis smiles back. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve never actually bought one of these before.”  
  
  
Elliot shrugs. “First time for everything, eh?”  
  
  
“S’pose so,” Louis agrees amicably.  
  
  
“What’s the occasion?”  
  
  
“Well…I guess there isn’t one, yet. It’s more of having something on hand for when there is? I don’t really have anything that could be considered ‘formal.’” He pulls a sleek black blazer from the rack, looking it over. “I kind of like this one?”  
  
  
Elliot nods. “That’s a good choice, nice material.”  
  
  
Louis slips it off the hanger and pushes his arms through the sleeves, trying it on over top of his v-neck shirt. He moves to stand in front of a nearby mirror, checking his reflection. The material slightly bulks around his waist, the sleeves slipping down past his palms. “Hm…well this one’s too big.”  
  
  
“No problem,” Elliot says, sifting expertly through the rack. He pulls away with a smaller size, offering it to Louis. “Try this, instead.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” Louis says, slipping out of the first blazer in exchange for the smaller one. It’s a much better fit, the cufflinks lining up nicely with his wrists. He hopes Harry will like it, too.  
  
  
Behind him, Elliot leans casually against the wall, smiling a bit as Louis studies his reflection in the mirror.  
  
  
“Think it’s a perfect fit,” Louis says, brushing his hands at the hem.  
  
  
Elliot nods, pushing away from the wall. “It looks great on you.” He steps closer, facing Louis. “Just needs to be buttoned,” he says, quietly.  
  
  
His hands rise up then, hovering just above Louis’s stomach as he reaches for the single button at the front of the blazer, standing just a little bit  _too_  close to be considered strictly professional and…oh shit…Louis has always considered himself to be rather oblivious when it comes to stuff like this but…is this guy  _coming on_ to him?  
  
  
The hair at the back of his neck prickles anxiously as Elliot slowly tucks the button into place, stood so close Louis can actually see the light stubble that dusts his jawline. He stands frozen, holding his breath, not sure what to do…  
  
  
“That’s better,” Elliot says, finally dropping his hands.  
  
  
Louis holds back a sigh of relief as he steps away. No big deal, then. He was only doing his job. Louis was just jumping to conclusions, that’s all. “Right. Thank you.” He glances at his reflection once more, noting the way the blazer fits snug around his waist once it’s buttoned. With a satisfied nod, he carefully slips it back off, gathering up the rest of his clothes. “Uhm, thanks again for all your help,” he says, offering a polite smile before turning away.  
  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Elliot says then, stopping him in his tracks.  
  
  
Louis swallows hard, turning back around.  
  
  
Elliot smiles, looking a bit unsure. “Hope this isn’t too forward of me but…by any chance, are you single?”  
  
  
Louis gapes at the question. “Oh – erm, no, sorry. I’m not.”  
  
  
Elliot sighs, shrugging in defeat. “Figures. You’re just too cute.” He straightens the clothes on the rack, tucking the discarded blazer back into place. “Well, if it doesn’t work out…you know where to find me.” He gives Louis one last, long look, and then walks away.  
  
  
Louis practically deflates, relieved to be left alone again. He’s only actually been hit on less than a handful of times in his life, but it’s always a weird experience, no matter how nice of a guy is pursuing him. It makes him feel on edge for some reason, jittery, like he’s been put on the spot with these massive stage lights shining down, and—  
  
  
“If what doesn’t work out?”  
  
  
Louis squeaks, spinning around.  
  
  
Of course, he’s faced with none other than Harry. He stands with his head cocked to the side, his posture a bit tense, and although he’s smiling good-naturedly, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Louis can only imagine how much he must have overheard, but Harry doesn’t wait for an answer.  
  
  
“He seemed to really like you,” he observes. He’s staring fixedly at Elliot’s back, watching as he makes his way back to his post at the front counter, like he’s mentally daring him to come anywhere  _near_  Louis again.  
  
  
Louis’s pulse stutters weakly, panicked. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.  
  
  
Harry blinks at that, pulled from his near-territorial trance. The tightness in his jaw immediately softens when he looks back at Louis’s face. He steps closer to rub a hand at the small of his back, sensing his distress. “Hey, no – it’s okay, love. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assures. Then he takes the stack of clothes from Louis’s hands. “Need to try these on?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head, still biting uncertainly at his lip. The next thing he knows, Harry is leading him away with a hand curled tightly –  _possessively_  – around his hip. And Louis suppresses a shiver.  
  
  
  
The dressing room hallway is deserted, every door left wide open and vacant. Harry guides Louis to the very last room at the end of the hall, slipping inside and locking the door behind them. It’s brightly lit and rather spacious, with white-carpeted floors and a large mirror covering one wall. Soft instrumental music spills in from somewhere above. Harry hangs Louis’s clothes on the designated hooks without a word and then sits down on a plush armchair in the corner, making himself comfortable while he waits.  
  
  
Louis’s fingers twist at his sides, still feeling a bit anxious. He tries to think of something to say to break the silence, but comes up with nothing, turning instead to try on the formalwear. He steps out of his shoes first, watching out of the corner of his eye as Harry occupies himself with his iPhone, his expression unreadable.  
  
  
Louis can’t shake the feeling that  _something_  is wrong. It’s too quiet, the air so thick with tension it’s almost stifling…And worst of all, Harry won’t look at him. He seems to be more interested in his phone of all things, even when Louis strips out of his clothes and is standing practically  _naked_  before him, and it’s  _frustrating_.  
  
  
He tries on a grey button-up top and the first pair of suit pants, checking his reflection in the mirror. They’re nice and snug around his bum, which is, well, always a good thing, right?  
  
  
“Uhm…Harry?”  
  
  
“Hm?”  
  
  
Louis shifts on his feet, folding his hands behind his back. “Do these look okay?”  
  
  
_Finally_ , Harry glances up from his phone, observing him benignly. “Looks great, love. They fit alright?”  
  
  
Louis nods, smiling at the pet name, but it’s quickly replaced with a frown when Harry turns back to his phone, once again.  
  
  
When he’s finished trying on the last of the clothes, Louis slips them neatly back onto the hangers, hurrying to redress himself, his face a bit hot with shame. By now, of course, he  _knows_  he must have disappointed Harry – why else would he be acting so distant? – and there are few things Louis hates more than disappointing his dom. It’s dreadful. He just wants to be  _good_.  
  
  
He’s bent over, reaching for his crumpled-up jeggings, when Harry finally speaks again, dispelling a prolonged silence. “Louis.”  
  
  
He straightens up, looking back at him. “Yes?”  
  
  
“Come here.”  
  
  
Louis follows the command, his bare feet crossing the carpeted floor of the dressing room. Harry is still sitting casually in the corner chair, his legs spread a bit, hands lightly curled over the armrests. Louis stands in front him, wearing nothing but his little white briefs. Goosebumps sprout up across his skin, partly from the cold air in the room, but mostly from having Harry’s attention all to himself again.  
  
  
“Turn around,” Harry orders softly.  
   
  
Slowly, Louis obeys, showing his backside to Harry with little trepidation. He’s expecting to get spanked or something, but instead, Harry’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, gently pulling him down onto his lap. He sits with his back pressed against Harry’s chest, his thighs spread and draped over each of his legs.  
  
  
Harry’s large hands settle across Louis’s belly, sliding up and down his torso with gentle, lingering touches. And Louis sinks back into his warmth with a relieved sigh, the tension from before slowly ebbing away. He feels little and pliant like this, tucked against Harry’s chest, relishing in all of the touches and affection. He can never quite get enough.  
  
  
His breath hitches unsteadily when Harry’s hands begin to drift downward, lower and lower, until his thumbs hook into the waistband of his briefs. “Lift up,” he murmurs, and Louis swallows hard before raising his hips, so Harry can push his underwear down over his thighs.  
  
  
Louis’s cock is exposed then, small and soft and lying limp against his hip. Harry stares at it, his chin hooked over Louis’s shoulder, but makes no move to touch him. Not yet. Instead, he rests his lips near the nape of Louis’s neck, kissing reverently at the skin.  
  
  
“…Did you like him?” Harry asks after a long moment, his tone soft and unsure rather than accusatory.  
  
  
Louis nervously shifts in his lap. “Erm…he seemed okay, I guess.”  
  
  
Harry frowns, nuzzling at his neck. “Did you want him to touch you?”  
  
  
Louis gasps. “ _No_. I didn’t know what to do, I—” he bites his lip. “…Am I in trouble?”  
  
  
“No,” Harry says. He rubs a soothing hand at his tummy to calm him down. “Not in trouble, love. It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have left you alone, looking as good as you do…” He turns his head, kissing at the sensitive little spot below Louis’s ear, “…being as sweet as you are.”  
  
  
At this, Louis’s heart begins to steadily pound, his blood flooding south. He stares down at his lap, watching helplessly as his prick perks up while Harry murmurs in his ear, breath warm and tickling at his skin. He has his arms wrapped tight around Louis, holding him close with his lips turned down in a frown, and – Jesus, is he actually  _pouting?_  
  
  
Louis has never been so endeared.  
  
  
One of Harry’s hands inches upward then, brushing the pad of his thumb against Louis’s nipple just to feel him tremble in his lap. “…D’you think he could fuck you better than I could?”  
  
  
Louis exhales shakily –  _shit_ ,  _why is he getting so hard from this?_ He answers without hesitation. “ _No_.”  
  
  
Harry burrows possessively against his neck, his voice still so gentle despite the dirty words spilling from his lips. “Would you beg for his cock like you would for mine?”  
  
  
Louis resolutely shakes his head. “Never – I swear, I… _Daddy_ ,” he whispers the last word, pleadingly.  
  
  
Harry smiles against his skin at that, making Louis shiver. “Should just take you right now. Fuck you in this chair…Make him listen as you come on my cock, again and again.”  
  
  
And  _god_ , Louis  _whimpers_. He takes a nervous breath. “I – if that’s what you want—”  
  
  
But Harry cuts him off, shaking his head. “Don’t want to take your virginity in some dressing room,” he murmurs, kissing his hair. “Although it is tempting…” His arms tighten around him, holding him close as if he’s afraid he’ll suddenly slip away. “The thought of someone else having you drives me  _insane,_ ” Harry admits after a moment, his voice small and quiet. He shakes his head, his eyes clenched shut. “I hate it.”  
  
  
Louis’s breath catches.  
  
  
He’s never seen this side of Harry, before. His usual confident demeanor has been replaced with fragile uncertainty, for once actually  _seeking_  reassurance rather than  _giving_  it. And it dawns on Louis then, why Harry was so distant before. He wasn’t disappointed with him, after all. He was… _jealous?_  But how the hell could that be? Okay, so another dominant approached his sub, but…but  _Louis_  is the one who feels insecure at times, not Harry. Never Harry. Because, well, why should he? Surely he can see that Louis is the lucky one, here. It doesn’t make any sense.  
  
  
Still, there is a part of him, however wrong or shameful, that can’t help but feel a bit pleased about it. To know that maybe, just maybe, Harry is afraid of losing him, too.  
  
  
He shakes his head in disbelief, looking back over his shoulder at him. “Only want you,” Louis promises.  
  
  
Harry smiles, nosing at his cheek. And then he’s kissing him, their mouths brushing together, gentle and wet. Louis tilts his head back for better access, parting his lips for him, and Harry makes a soft sound as he licks into his mouth, pulling Louis even closer against him, still sitting back to chest. “Mine,” Harry breathes between kisses, and Louis smiles against his lips. “Yours,” he whispers back with a nod.  
  
  
Louis reaches his hand up and back, burying his fingers in Harry’s hair. And Harry groans, his own hand sliding down Louis’s body to take hold of his cock. He pulls at him with short little strokes, and Louis gasps into his mouth.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss then, pulling back just to watch Louis’s face as he plays with his little prick. He rubs his thumb over his slit, smirking when precome dribbles out. “You always get wet so  _fast_ , baby.”  
  
  
Louis blushes, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers.  
  
  
But Harry shakes his head, kissing his neck. “You’ve no idea what that does to me,” he murmurs against his ear.  
  
  
They stare down at his lap as Harry touches him, fingers sticky with precome, watching Louis’s cock twitch inside his fist. Louis’s head drops back against his shoulder at the sight, lips parted on a soft moan. His throat is bared and Harry latches his mouth to it, sucking furiously at a spot just below Louis’s ear, like he’s determined to mark him up and claim him somewhere everyone can see.  
  
  
The pulse-point in Louis’s neck  _throbs_  under Harry’s wet, punishing mouth, and his eyes flutter shut, feeling weightless, feeling desired. Harry touches him just the way he likes, big hand tugging on his cockhead. Louis gasps when he suddenly picks up speed. He’s panting now, his eyes clenched shut, hips bucking up into his grip. “ _Daddy_ ,” he whispers desperately, “you’re gonna make me come –  _oh_  – ” Louis ruts his hips up faster, chasing that feeling. Harry’s fist is so tight and sure around the tip of his cock, it’s  _heavenly_. Just a little bit more and—  
  
  
Without warning, the touch is gone. Harry moves his hand away, sliding it back up to Louis’s hip. And Louis’s eyes fly open, gaping at him, confused.  
  
  
Harry smiles, a devious little glint in his eye as he pats at Louis’s hip. “Get dressed, love. Let’s finish this at home.”  
  
  
Louis fish mouths, his dick aching after being brought so close to the edge only to be denied at the very last second. He glances despondently down at his lap and then back at Harry. “But – ‘m so  _close_ ,” he whines.  
  
  
“ _Louis_ ,” Harry admonishes.  
  
  
Louis sucks in a deep breath, the dominance in Harry’s tone brining him back to his senses a bit. He lowers his eyes and apologizes for whining. “Sorry,” he whispers, moving to climb from Harry’s lap.  
  
  
Harry stops him, gently pulling him back. He tilts his chin up to kiss his lips. “Shh, it’s okay.” His fingers stroke at his fringe, whispering between kisses. “I want you to be good for me, okay? And I promise when we get home,” he sucks at his bottom lip, “I’ll make you come harder than you ever have in your life.”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly, searching Harry’s eyes. “W-what are you going to do?”  
  
  
Harry smiles, patting his hip again. “You’ll see, baby. Now get dressed.”  
  
  
With a nod, Louis climbs obediently from his lap. He quickly pulls his clothes back on, wincing as he tucks his hard cock into his jeggings, positioning it so that it’s as inconspicuous as possible. It seems like a lost cause, really. He already looks as if he’s been ravaged, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks and puffy lips, a fresh love bite blooming against his throat, as obvious as can be. And Harry tucks him under his arm as they exit the dressing room, looking  _rather_  smug.  
  
  
Fortunately, Elliot seems to have cleared off on his break or something, because he’s nowhere to be seen in the formalwear department. There’s now an older man standing behind the front counter, looking tired as he rings up their purchases. Louis shifts impatiently on his feet, trying to ignore the blood that’s still coursing through his dick. He nudges his forehead miserably against Harry’s bicep, and Harry rubs reassuring circles into the small of his back.  
  
  
It feels like years have passed by the time they make it back to the parking garage, Louis following Harry blindly all the way, paranoid that everyone can see the erection tenting at the front of his jeans. When the valet servicemen pulls up in the Range Rover, Louis makes a clumsy climb into the passenger seat, hurriedly turning the air conditioning vents so that they’re facing him. It’s so fucking  _hot_.  
  
  
The drive home is relatively silent, the anticipation for what’s to come hanging overhead like a haze. Louis’s cock is steadily beginning to  _hurt_  where it’s trapped in the confines of his jeans, pulsing with its denied release. It’s only made worse when Harry reaches over and places a hand up high on Louis’s thigh, his fingers stroking gently,  _teasingly_ – the tip of his littlest finger brushing so,  _so_  close to Louis’s groin. And Louis bites back a whine as his dick pushes hard up against his zipper, begging for  _something_.  
   
  
Harry notices his discomfort, glancing over at him briefly as he drives. “Feeling okay?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head once, squirming in his seat. He drags the heel of his palm against the bulge in his pants for relief. But Harry pulls it away, lacing their fingers together. “No touching, baby,” he reminds him.  
  
  
Louis whimpers, too far gone to care how pitiful he sounds. “Hurts, Daddy.”  
  
  
“I know,” Harry placates, “we’re almost home.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, looking out the window for any kind of distraction. He wishes Harry would just pull over, push him into the backseat, and make him come already. It wouldn’t take very long at all, with the way he’s wound up like a ball of string, ready to unravel at the slightest tug.  
  
  
When they’re stopped at a red light, Harry moves his hand up to Louis’s bulge, rubbing him over his jeans to relieve some of the pressure. And Louis’s head drops back against the headrest with an appreciative little groan. Harry’s hand always feels so fucking  _good_  on him, light-years better than his own. “ _Daddy_ …” he whispers, hips pushing up into his hand for more touch.  
  
  
“You’re still so hard, baby,” Harry murmurs sympathetically, squeezing  _right at the tip of his cock_.  
  
  
And then the light turns green, and Harry pulls his hand away again. And Louis could scream – could practically swell up and  _burst_  with all of his pent-up sexual frustration.  
  
  
  
Finally, fucking  _finally_ , they make it back to the house. Harry pulls into the four-car garage and parks, stepping out of the driver’s seat. Louis is fumbling with his seatbelt when the door opens, and Harry helps him climb out, steadying him once he’s on his feet.  
  
  
“I’m going to bring our bags inside, now,” Harry tells him, speaking slow and gently. “Go ahead upstairs to our room. Get undressed, and wait for me on the bed, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, hurrying inside after Harry drops a kiss to his forehead. He makes his way up the grand staircase and down the hall to the master bedroom on autopilot, feeling almost feverish as he strips out of his clothes. He sits down on the edge of the bed, his hands tucked under his thighs to keep himself from touching. And then he waits.  
  
  
It takes two separate trips for Harry to carry all of their shopping bags up the stairs, and while it’s likely that only a few minutes have passed, it sort of feels like forever and a day for Louis. He sighs in relief when Harry finally comes back, closing the bedroom door behind him and placing the bags near their closets. He straightens up then, and Louis stares unabashedly as he peels out of his shirt, rolling his shoulders back. He pulls his jeans off, tossing them into the hamper, and Louis’s eyes go straight to the heavy bulge between his legs, the cotton of his briefs stretched taut around it.  
  
  
Harry crosses to where he’s sat at the edge of the bed and lifts him up, one arm wrapped around his back and the other hooked under his knees. Louis squeaks, his arms going up around Harry’s neck. And Harry kisses his cheek, murmuring softly as he rubs a hand against his thigh. “ _Baby_.”  
  
  
He carefully sets Louis down on the middle of the bed, laying him back against the sheets with some pillows tucked beneath his head so that he’s comfortable. It doesn’t occur to Louis until just then that he has no idea what Harry has planned for them. He starts to shake a bit, suddenly very, very nervous.  
  
  
Harry can sense it, of course, his hands gentle where they’re cupping Louis’s neck, peppering his face with kisses. “Shh, love,” Harry whispers, hovering over him, “is this alright?”  
  
  
Louis nods, tilting his chin up to capture Harry’s mouth, channeling all of his nerves into the kiss. Harry kisses back like he means it, licking and tugging at Louis’s lips, reminding Louis that his cock is still swollen where it lies against his belly. Harry wraps his fingers around it, giving him a few quick tugs. And then his hand drops even lower, slipping between Louis’s thighs and urging him to part them.  
  
  
Louis does, exhaling nervously as he spreads his legs. Harry props himself up on one elbow, one hand pushing Louis’s fringe back from his forehead, the other tracing tiny patterns with his fingertips up high on Louis’s inner thigh. Slowly, his hand inches up higher, until the tip of his forefinger is touching reverently at Louis’s hole.  
  
  
Louis inhales sharply, his eyes widening a bit.  
  
  
“Louis…” Harry says, gently, fingertip tracing over his rim. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, shaking his head.  
  
  
Harry quirks his brow. “No? Never got off with your fingers?”  
  
  
Louis blushes, embarrassed, and shakes his head again.  
  
  
Harry chuckles, burying his face in Louis’s neck. “God, you really are innocent,” he sighs. To Louis’s surprise, Harry actually seems endeared by his lack of experience rather than turned off by it.  
  
  
Louis turns even redder at that. He shifts a bit on the sheets, averting his gaze. “Uhm,” he softly clears his throat, “I – I have  _thought_  about it,” he explains, “just – was too afraid it would hurt.”  
  
  
Harry nods in understanding, kissing his forehead. “I won’t hurt you, love. I’m gonna go so, so slow with you.”  
  
  
Louis exhales, then nods his head. “Okay.”  
  
  
Harry searches his face. “You want to? Try just my fingers?”  
  
  
Louis nods again. “Yeah, I – yeah. Want to.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. He kisses his nose before rolling to the other side of the bed, fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand. He comes back with a clear bottle of lube and – wow, they’ve never had to use  _that_  before.  
  
  
Harry kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Just – I know it’s hard for you baby, but try to relax, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, loving how patient Harry is with him. Even though he has to guide Louis through every little thing, he doesn’t seem to mind at all. It’s comforting.  
  
  
Harry drizzles some of the lubricant onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. And then he lies back down by Louis’s side, his hand slipping between his parted thighs.  
  
  
The first wet touch has Louis’s breath catching in his lungs. Harry has only really touched him here once before, the night he used his mouth. This time, he’s rubbing and stroking his fingertips against him in small circles, spreading the lubricant until Louis is wet all over. After a moment, he increases the pressure, massaging at his rim to loosen up the muscles. He wiggles the tips of his fingers back and forth, vibrating them in short pulses against Louis’s rim, and oh – that feels nice.  
  
  
Louis’s breathing picks up, parting his thighs for more.  
  
  
Harry watches him closely for his reactions, fingertips fluttering hard and fast. “Good?”  
  
  
Louis nods, “mhm,” he breathes.  
  
  
Harry reaches for the lube, pouring some more onto his fingers before setting back to work. He brings the tip of his forefinger to Louis’s tiny, pink little hole, nudging it inside in the smallest increments. Louis bites his lip at the intrusion, pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t hurt.  
  
  
He’s clenched tight around his fingertip and Harry swirls it around to loosen up the muscles, pressing against the inner walls to make room as he pushes further and further in. Once he’s down to the third knuckle, he nudges the tip of his middle finger inside as well, stroking and pushing.  
  
  
It’s a bit of a stretch, and Louis winces. Harry frowns, kissing his cheek apologetically. “Sorry. You okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, “y-yeah, keep going.”  
  
  
Harry wiggles his fingers further inside, scissoring them apart and stroking against the walls, as if he’s  _searching_  for something…  
  
  
Louis finds out what it is only seconds later.  
  
  
“ _Oh!_ ” he gasps, his foot kicking out involuntarily. He gapes up at Harry, confused…What the hell was  _that?_  
  
  
Harry’s watching him closely and smirks like he’s won some sort of prize, before crooking his fingers up again. And suddenly, it’s pleasure like Louis has never known – white-hot heat and prickles of pure, tingling  _bliss_ , zipping up and down his spine, from the tip of his head to his toes. His mouth falls open.  
  
  
“Oh – oh my  _god_ ,” Louis cries, back arching up from the bed. He gapes up at Harry in disbelief, eyes wide and innocent. “Harry –  _what_ —?”  
  
  
Harry smiles, leaning in close to kiss behind his ear. “That’s your spot, baby.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t even have time to register what that means before Harry is touching him there again, brushing the pads of his fingers against that fleshy little bundle of nerves. And Louis sees stars.  
  
  
Harry pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then coaxes them back in again, nailing his prostate once more. Louis cries out, turning to bury his face against his chest. “ _Nnng_  – f- _fuck_ ,” he whimpers, as Harry’s fingertips rub at him just right.  
  
  
Harry eases him back onto the pillows. “Lay back down, love. Wanna see you.” His pupils are blown dark, breathing laboured, watching Louis’s face as he fucks him with his fingers.  
  
  
It’s so fucking  _intense_ , Louis’s thighs start quivering. He spreads them open for more, hands twisted tight in the sheets to resist touching his cock. Harry’s long fingers fuck him nice and slow, opening him up and massaging at his prostate, making wet,  _dirty_  little squelching sounds each time he pumps them in and out.  
  
  
He thrusts in deeper and Louis’s head tips back against the pillow, the prettiest, breathy moans falling from his lips. Harry buries his face in the crook of his neck, breathing hard against the warm skin. “You sound so fucking  _good_ ,” he groans, like it’s  _paining_  him not to slip his fingers out and pin Louis to the mattress, fuck him with his cock instead.  
  
  
Louis blushes, shy about his own noises, but he doesn’t think it’s even possible to hold them in when Harry’s touching him like this. He pulls his hand away for a moment to massage his balls, and then he’s pushing his fingers back in again, teasing at Louis’s sweet spot. Louis gasps, sensitive, his hand clutching uselessly at Harry’s bicep.  
  
  
Harry nips at his neck. “Call me it,” he begs, “ _god_  – call me it. Please.”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whimpers.  
  
  
Harry ruts his hips down with a grunt, his cock hard and nudging against Louis’s thigh,  _dripping_. He curls his fingers again just to listen to Louis whine for it, mouthing at his neck. “Look at how good you are for me, baby,” he breathes, “letting Daddy fuck you with his fingers. Does it feel good?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, guiltily nodding his head.  
  
  
“Am I the only one who gets to touch you like this?” Harry murmurs, those same possessive feelings from earlier having not yet subsided completely.  
  
  
Louis nods, skin tingling. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry moves his head up to kiss him, a messy clash of lips. “The only one who knows how pretty you are when you come?”  
  
  
And Louis shivers because  _fuck_ , Harry called him  _pretty_. He’s panting now, wrecked little gasps falling from his lips. He wants to come so bad, it feels like he’s been hard for  _days_  now. He needs just a little bit more. “Daddy,” he whispers, “please.”  
  
  
Harry kisses his cheek. “What is it, baby?”  
  
  
Louis blushes, pointing shyly down at his prick, flushed red and aching.  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Want me to touch you there?”  
  
  
Louis nods, sighing when Harry’s other hand moves down to grip his cock. He strokes him, slowly, thumb swiping across his wet slit. “You’re gonna feel so good, aren’t you baby? Gonna come so hard for me.”  
  
  
He tugs on Louis’s cockhead, his other hand pushing in deep and  _staying_  there, fingertips rubbing mercilessly at Louis’s prostate. And Louis lets out the most beautiful cry, his back arching up from the bed. And then he’s coming, so hard his mind blanks, dick pulsing across his tummy in short spurts again and again.  
  
  
Harry sits up then, kneeling between Louis’s spread legs. He jerks himself with his lube-soaked hand, breathing harshly. His head drops back. “Fuck,” he groans, “got me so close just  _listening_  to you.”  
  
  
Louis blushes, his body lying limp against the sheets as he catches his breath, totally blissed out. He watches as Harry’s hand moves up and down his cock, curling around the head. His hips pump up into his grip with a grunt, the muscles of his abdomen twitching. It only takes a few more pulls before he’s coming, spilling in thin, white ropes along the inside of Louis’s thigh.  
  
  
Afterwards, Harry collapses beside him on the bed, pulling Louis close. He presses kisses to his damp forehead, his hand rubbing small circles against his back. “Feel better now?”  
  
  
Louis nods, nosing at his collarbone. “Daddy,” he murmurs sleepily.  
  
  
And Harry smiles against his hair.  
  
  
   
  
  
  
Later that night, after he’s showered and changed into pyjamas, Louis sorts through the many shopping bags, wanting to hang up the clothes before they wrinkle. It feels kind of strange, storing all of these expensive, new things next to the old ones, the contrast between the two nearly impossible to miss. He’s slipping a t-shirt onto a hanger when Harry appears in the closet doorway, looking soft and sleepy in nothing but his flannel pyjama pants, his hair still damp from the shower.  
  
  
“Can I help?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, passing him one of the shopping bags.  
  
  
Harry pulls out the navy blue jumper he bought for Louis, sliding it onto a hanger. They’re quiet for a moment, meticulously hanging up the clothes, until Harry clears his throat. “Louis…” he says, “I want to apologize. For today.”  
  
  
Louis looks back at him, quirking his brow. “What do you mean? For what?”  
  
  
He sighs. “For acting like a possessive caveman,” he says, chuckling darkly. He scratches at the back of his neck, wincing at the memory. “I know I can be a jealous shit, sometimes. I need to work on that.”  
  
  
Louis just shrugs, stacking the empty shopping bags in the corner. “I get jealous, too.”  
  
  
“You’ve no reason to be,” Harry assures him, hanging up the last jumper. “’m not going anywhere.”  
  
  
Louis looks down with a smile, fiddling with his fringe. He bites his lip, straightening the stack of beanies as a distraction. “Uhm, thank you. Again. For all of this, I mean,” he says, motioning to his new clothes.  
  
  
Harry’s eyes soften. “I told you, you don’t have to thank me.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs again, pushing the top drawer of his dresser closed. Arms slip around his waist then as Harry hugs him from behind, dotting the top of his head with kisses. “Let’s go to bed, baby, ‘m sleepy. You wore me out.”  
  
  
Louis tuts incredulously, fighting back a grin. “You wore  _me_  out! Bloody caveman.”  
  
  
Harry laughs, low and full, his chest rumbling where it’s pressed to Louis’s back. “Hmm…does that mean you need me to carry you to bed?”  
  
  
Louis sniffs. “Maybe.”  
  
  
The next thing he knows, he’s being turned around and hauled up over Harry’s shoulder, staring down at his back with his arse perched up high beside Harry’s face. “Jesus, you really are a caveman,” Louis laments, his face hot with a blush, “this isn’t exactly what I had in mind, you know.”  
  
  
Harry just laughs, patting Louis’s bum with his hand. He flicks off the closet light, and then carries him to bed.  
  
  
And Louis thinks of how he doesn’t even need any of this – the king sized bed with the thousand thread count sheets, or the new clothes hanging in his wardrobe, or the palatial mansion by the pool.  
  
  
He could wake up tomorrow and all of it could be gone. But as long as he was still tucked inside the crook of Harry’s arm, he’d feel like the luckiest boy in the world.  
  
  
And he is. He really is.

   
  
  



	8. In the afterglow

It’s five o’clock in the morning and Louis wakes up alone.  
  
  
He shivers, cold without Harry’s familiar warmth pressed against his back. He reaches out for him in the dark only to find the bed empty, the blankets pushed back on one side. His eyes peer open then, glancing bemusedly around the bedroom. The light is on in the en-suite, slipping through a tiny crack under the door. And then Louis hears an awful retching sound, slightly muffled in the quiet. He frowns, climbing from the bed.  
  
  
When he pushes open the bathroom door, he finds Harry crouched in front of the toilet, one arm slung around the bowl, the other hand holding his hair back from his face, breathing sickly.  
  
  
“Harry…” Louis worries, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
Harry groans, shaking his head. “Think my stomach is angry with me for eating that Thai food.” He reaches up a trembling hand to flush the toilet, before slumping back against the wall with a pained breath.  
  
  
Louis winces, hurrying over to the sink. He soaks a flannel in hot water, wringing out the excess. Then he crouches down on the floor at Harry’s side, pressing the hot cloth to his forehead and wiping at his mouth.  
  
  
Harry watches him with tired eyes, the white surrounding his pupils watery and bloodshot. His lips tug up in a rueful smile. “You didn’t have to get out of bed, baby,” he whispers, his voice scratchy and hoarse. “It’s so late.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Technically it’s early. Besides, you’re sick.”  
  
  
Harry shivers pitifully where he’s sat on the cold tile, and Louis frowns. “…I’m gonna run you a bath,” he says, pushing up from the floor.  
  
  
The bathtub is wide-set and porcelain, framed with polished marble steps and positioned beneath a large bay window in the center of the en-suite. Louis has never used it before but he figures things out easily enough, twisting at the taps until the water flows, and checking to make sure the temperature is just right.  
  
  
While it fills up, Harry brushes his teeth at the sink and swishes around a cap-full of mouthwash, his movements sluggish and slow. He looks a bit pale, his skin dotted with goosebumps as he peels out of his pyjamas. He rubs his hands together for warmth, glancing pitifully back at Louis. “Wanna get in with me?” he asks, and it’s more of a request than a question.  
  
  
Louis nods and starts to undress, as Harry makes a careful climb up the steps and into the tub. He lets out one last shiver, before sinking into the hot water with a relieved sigh. Louis follows after him and sits at the opposite end. The tub is so wide that they’re both able to stretch out comfortably, their legs sliding together under the water.  
  
  
Steam rises around them in soft little swirls, while the water pours out from the tap with a splash. There’s a tray of bath products propped up at the corner of the tub, filled with sponges and shower gels and aromatherapy bubble bath, some candles and a pumice stone, too. Louis chooses a white loofah sponge and one of the shower gels that smells like vanilla, scooting closer to sit between Harry’s legs. He lathers up the sponge and rubs it across his chest and shoulders, washing him.  
  
  
“Lift up your arm,” Louis murmurs quietly, scrubbing at Harry’s armpit after he complies.  
  
  
Harry watches him work, frowning a bit.  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow, his movements slowing, “…what?”  
  
  
Harry’s shoulders lift in a feeble shrug. “I should be the one taking care of you,” he pouts.  
  
  
Louis tuts. “ _I’m_ not the one who’s sick.”  
  
  
Harry reaches out a hand and curls it around Louis’s ankle, brushing his thumb at the delicate bone. “Yeah, but you’re my baby.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, not even bothering to conceal his fond. “You’re ridiculous. Other arm.”  
  
  
Harry lowers his arm, raising the other one up over his head with a slight splash. Louis washes him meticulously, little hands flitting across Harry’s torso in a trail of lather and vanilla-scented bubbles.  
  
  
“Think we should skip your hair,” Louis says once he’s finished, splashing water at his chest to rinse away the suds. “You probably shouldn’t sleep on it wet.”  
  
  
Harry nods, watching as Louis slowly backs away. He drizzles some more shower gel onto the loofah and then rises up from the water, propped on his knees as he washes himself, his skin wet and glinting a bit in the dim light. A trail of soapsuds slithers down his belly, collecting in the indents of his hips and the soft little baby hairs below his navel.  
  
  
Harry watches him, his body slumped weakly back against the tub. He shakes his head. “This is so unfair,” he mutters, sounding pained. “D’you have any idea what I would do to you right now if I weren’t an inch from death?”  
  
  
Louis stifles a laugh, dragging the sponge down his arm. “Don’t you think that’s a bit dramatic?”  
  
  
Harry ignores him. “I’d spend _ages_ mouthing at your little tummy, and your hips,” he wonders aloud, his eyes glazed over as if he’s imagining it all in his head. “And then I’d get you to spread open for me so I could lick you out with my tongue.”  
  
  
Louis flushes all over, like he always does whenever Harry talks to him like that. He bites his lip, dropping the sponge. In a rare moment of bravery, he slowly turns around, showing his backside to Harry, the water splashing lightly with each calculated movement. Then he leans forward in the center of the tub, until his hands touch the bottom, palms flat against smooth porcelain. He arches his back, pushing his bum out and parting his thighs. And Harry watches as Louis’s hole peeks out from between his cheeks, little and pink and wet and _glistening_.  
  
  
Harry’s mouth falls open a bit, releasing a tiny, frustrated puff of air. He _loves_ that Louis is becoming more and more comfortable with him but _Christ_ , he’s been turning into quite the little tease lately. He feels his cock give a feeble twitch, body too weak to get fully hard. “ _God_ , Louis,” Harry whispers, mouth watering with how badly he wants to suck at the water droplets sprinkled around his rim. “Look at you.”  
  
  
Louis hides a small smile against his shoulder. “I can’t,” he whispers back.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “You’re the prettiest boy in the world. Can’t even believe you’re all mine.”  
  
  
Louis slowly sits back up then, suddenly feeling shy. He turns around and scoots forward to sit between Harry’s legs again, his cheeks a bit pink. Harry’s hands rise up, rubbing at his hips, and Louis rests his head on his shoulder. “Feeling any better?”  
  
  
Harry nods, “A little.”  
  
  
“Ready to get out?”  
  
  
Harry nods again, pushing gingerly to his feet while Louis releases the stopper from the drain. They towel off quickly, and Harry starts to shiver again. Louis makes him sit on the bed while he digs through Harry’s wardrobe for his warmest pair of pyjama pants and a soft hoodie, setting them down beside him on the mattress. “Get dressed,” Louis tells him, “’m gonna make you a tea.”  
  
  
Harry reaches out for his wrist, pulling him back. “Nooo, come to bed.”  
  
  
“You’re gonna get dehydrated, you need to drink something,” Louis insists, exasperated.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, nosing at Louis’s belly over his t-shirt. “Only thing I need is you.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, ignoring the sudden influx of butterflies in his stomach. “You truly are pitiful when you’re sick. I never would have guessed.”  
  
  
Harry pouts some more, but with a bit of coaxing, Louis manages to get him tucked under the blankets. “I’ll be right back,” he whispers, turning towards the door.  
  
  
He slips downstairs as quietly as possible and puts the kettle on, the house silent and still at this odd hour. The sun is starting to rise. Louis can see it from the kitchen window, cutting through the fog. When he gets back up to their bedroom, Harry is still awake and blinking up at him sleepily, his curls splayed in a messy halo across his pillow.  
  
  
“I got you some water, too,” Louis says, setting a mug of steaming tea and a tall glass of ice water down on Harry’s nightstand.  
  
  
“You’re amazing,” Harry tells him, sitting up to sip at the water. He lies back down while he waits for his tea to cool, scooting over to Louis’s side after he’s climbed into bed.  
  
  
Harry throws an arm around his middle, tugging him in close so that they’re lying face to face, pillows pressed together. They breathe in the dark and the quiet and the pale light of day that crawls through the window in shades of blue, dawn approaching languidly. It’s comfortable, it’s _home_.  
  
  
Their chests rise and fall, an inhale for every exhale, ankles hooked together under the sheets. They’re not saying anything, don’t need to. Sometimes the silence is enough. And Louis feels it – feels so much his heart _aches_ with it.  
  
  
He’s felt it for a while now, still keeps it tucked inside his chest.  
  
  
Harry studies his face, the cut of his cheekbones and the rounded tip of his nose and the way his eyelashes cast shadows, long and sweeping. His left cheek is dotted with a single freckle that Harry likes to kiss whenever Louis is sad or happy or for no reason at all. He never needs a reason to kiss Louis, anyway.  
  
  
Harry’s lips turn up in a soft smile.  
  
  
Louis shifts under his heavy gaze, “…what is it?”  
  
  
Harry lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I just love you so much.”  
  
  
Harry has never said those words before. They make Louis’s heart flutter, skipping a beat or two. His face breaks into a grin, searching Harry’s eyes in quiet disbelief. “…Really?”  
  
  
Harry nods, his fingers soft where they stroke at the small of Louis’s back. “You don’t know how lucky I feel, because I have you,” he leans in, kissing Louis’s forehead. “And because I get to take care of you.” His lips trail down his nose, catching on the edge of his mouth. “…And because you take care of me, too.”  
  
  
Harry kisses him, cradling Louis’s face against his palm, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this before, so slow and tender he feels it in his bones, something delicate, something warm.  
  
  
“I love you, too,” Louis whispers between one kiss and the next. He smiles against his lips, feels Harry smiling back.   
  
  
And it’s everything.  
  
  
It’s everything and more, all at once.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Don’t go through that door,” Zayn says, “there’s a secret passage under the stairs.”  
  
  
“How do you know?” Louis asks.  
  
  
“Just do it.”  
  
  
It’s a Friday night and they’re sat on the floor of the den, legs criss-crossed and controllers clutched in their hands, playing _Super Mario World_ on Liam’s old Nintendo. Zayn is Mario, Louis is Luigi (of course). Zayn’s got a pretty keen eye for spotting secret passageways and the keys to bonus levels, figuring out which of the many trap doors in the ghost houses they should pass through and which will land them with three free lives at the end, while Louis has a knack for growing impatient and dying at the hands of a simple turtle shell, the bastards.  
  
  
Really, they’re just looking for ways to pass the time.  
  
  
It’s been a long day.  
  
  
There’s been tension in the house ever since Harry and Liam came home from work that afternoon. They went straight upstairs to Harry’s office without a word, secluding themselves behind closed doors for the rest of the night. They came down only once to eat dinner, both looking stressed and not saying much. And Louis and Zayn kept quiet, trading nervous glances from across the table.  
  
  
It’s nearing eleven o’clock now, and the house is still just as quiet and tense. Louis picks at a loose thread on his t-shirt. “Think they’ll be done soon?” he asks. Neither one of them wants to go to bed alone.  
  
  
“Who knows,” Zayn shrugs. “Think something bad must have happened, they never work this late.”  
  
  
Louis nods sagely, watching as Mario navigates past a sea urchin. “I hate the underwater levels.”  
  
  
“Same,” Zayn agrees, “Fuck these fish.”  
  
  
They’re in the middle of one of the bonus rounds when they hear Liam’s voice from upstairs, steadily growing louder.  
  
  
Zayn pauses the game then, silencing the cheerful, incessant background music. He and Louis sit very still on the floor, listening closely, their eyes tilted up towards the ceiling. And then they hear Harry’s voice cut in, a loud, booming yell that carries all the way downstairs,  
  
  
“ _THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT!_ ”  
  
  
It echoes menacingly through the house, brimming with frustration and anger, and Louis freezes, his breath catching…He’s never heard Harry yell like that, before. Immediately, he begins to shake, his body reacting to the dangerous tone of his dom’s voice. He can’t help but feel that he must have done something wrong somehow, even though Harry isn’t actually yelling at him.  
  
  
Zayn drops his controller and scoots closer, the video game completely forgotten as he places a hand on Louis’s thigh to comfort him. Upstairs, Harry continues to yell, with Liam’s rational voice cutting in at certain intervals, as if he’s attempting to calm him down. Louis can’t stop trembling.  
  
  
Zayn pats at his thigh. “It will be alright,” he whispers soothingly.  
  
  
It doesn’t take long for the yelling to stop, and then it’s quiet again, silent and still and terribly unnerving, tension still ringing through the walls like a ghost. Eventually, they hear footsteps on the grand staircase, descending slowly and drawing closer, until their owner appears, peeking into the den.  
  
  
It’s Liam.  
  
  
“Zayn,” he murmurs, sounding exhausted. He scrubs a hand down his face. “Let’s go to sleep, babe.”  
  
   
Zayn nods, giving Louis’s thigh another comforting pat before quickly hopping up from the floor, following after his dom.  
  
  
Alone now, Louis tucks his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around himself, resting his chin on top of his knees, making himself as small as possible. He stares up at the clock on the wall, watching as the little hand ticks away the seconds that turn into minutes, loud in the silence, a slow drag between each shift.  
  
  
Maybe he should just go to bed.  
  
  
He pushes up from the floor and wanders into the main hall, slowly climbing the staircase, one step at a time. It’s quiet on the second story landing, dark and still. Louis pauses outside of Harry’s office, chewing nervously at his lip. He isn’t sure if he should check in on him or leave him be, if maybe he just wants to be left alone. The light is on inside, the door partially open. Peering in, he can see Harry standing in front of the bookshelf against the far wall, his back to Louis. And before giving it second thought, Louis takes a deep breath and pushes the door open with a small knock.  
  
  
Harry bangs his fist against the wall at the sound. “Fucking hell, _WHAT_?” he roars, glancing back over his shoulder.  
  
  
Louis freezes with shock, his pulse stuttering to a halt and a tremor of fear racing down his spine. Harry has used his dominant tone with him before but he has _never_ , not once, raised his voice at him like that. It makes the trembling in Louis’s bones start back up again, cold and involuntary.  
  
  
When Harry sees him there in the doorway, he turns around, the anger disappearing from his face and his eyes widening in surprise. “…Louis?”  
  
  
And Louis makes a small, hurt sound before quickly disappearing back into the hall.  
  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” Harry mutters, hurriedly pushing around his desk to follow after him, a few stray papers scattering to the floor in his wake.  
  
  
He finds Louis standing at the end of the hallway in the dark, biting his lip and staring dejectedly down at the floor. Harry’s heart sinks into his stomach at the sight. “Louis – fuck – come here, baby, I’m sorry.” He wraps him up in his arms and holds him close to his chest, rocking gently back and forth. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, sweetheart, I thought you were Liam.”  
  
  
Louis exhales against his chest. “I – ”  
  
  
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing,” Harry assures him, rubbing soothing circles against his back. “I’m sorry.”  
  
  
Louis burrows into his warmth, his hands slowly rising up to clench in the back of Harry’s shirt. “Come to bed,” he whispers, “Please? …I’m scared.”  
  
  
Harry pulls back then, looking down to see his face, his eyes filled with concern. “Scared? Why?”  
  
  
“I – you’ve been working all day and night and – and I could hear you yelling from downstairs,” Louis whispers, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”  
  
  
Harry frowns, brushing his thumb against Louis’s cheekbone. “I’m sorry, love. It’s – that’s just the way my job is, sometimes…It can be very stressful.”  
  
  
Louis nods and frowns down at the floor, feeling stupid.  
  
  
Harry sighs, sounding tired. He studies Louis for a moment, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be right back.”  
  
  
Harry heads back down the hall to his office, disappearing inside. He steps back out a moment later, turning out the light and tugging the door closed behind him. Then he makes his way back to Louis’s side, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket. “I’ve turned my computer off, and now my phone as well,” he says, holding his thumb down on the power button until the screen goes black.  
  
  
Louis looks up at him apprehensively. “What about your work?”  
  
  
“It’s nothing that can’t wait until the morning,” Harry says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He cards a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “Think it’d be best if I sleep on it, anyway.”  
  
  
Louis nods, shifting awkwardly on his feet.  
  
  
Harry steps closer then, pulling him into a hug. He tightens his arms, lifting him effortlessly from the floor. Louis brings his legs up to wrap around his waist and Harry presses him back against the wall, nuzzling at his neck. “Sorry for scaring you, baby.”  
  
  
Louis drapes his arms around his shoulders, letting Harry kiss his neck in apology.  
  
  
“I love you,” Harry tells him, hushed against his skin.  
  
  
“I love you,” Louis whispers back, pecking a kiss to his temple.  
  
  
With Louis’s legs still locked around his waist, Harry carries him to bed, maneuvering the door open and closed and blindly crossing the floor in the dark. He reaches behind Louis to pull back the duvet before carefully setting him down, moonlight casting shadows across the bed. And Louis makes himself comfortable against the pillows, watching as Harry strips down to his boxers. He deposits his watch and phone onto the bedside table, tucking his shoes inside the closet. Louis reaches out for him with grabby-hands, wanting cuddles, and Harry smiles softly, making his way towards the bed. He crawls up between Louis’s legs and slowly collapses against him, resting his head on his chest with a sigh.  
  
  
Louis’s hands rise up and dig into Harry’s hair, massaging at his scalp with his fingertips to help relieve some of his built-up tension. And Harry moans in gratitude, his eyes falling closed.  
  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asks after a moment.  
  
  
Harry’s shoulder lifts in a shrug. “’s a bit complicated. Basically someone is threatening to sue, claiming one of our gymnasiums was partially constructed on their land. My lawyer should be able to clear it up soon enough but it’s just…stressful to deal with, to say the least.”  
  
  
“Oh…I’m sorry,” Louis says, wishing he had more to offer to make things better.  
  
  
“s’okay,” Harry murmurs.  
  
  
It falls silent then, the stress of the day slowly ebbing and fading. Somehow, everything is always better when they’re alone together in their bed, untouchable and out of reach, like the rest of the world can’t get to them. Harry’s eyes drop closed again, emitting an occasional soft groan as Louis massages his head. He pushes up into the touch, “feels nice.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, rubbing his thumbs into his temples.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles against his chest, tilting his chin to kiss him over his t-shirt, peppering the area with soft, slow drags of his lips. His breath seeps through the cotton and ghosts across one of his nipples, warm and tickling, and Louis shivers a bit.  
  
  
Harry notices his reaction and kisses him there again, watching as Louis’s nipple slowly hardens into a nub that pokes through his t-shirt. Intrigued, Harry rubs the pad of his thumb against it, listening to the way it makes Louis’s breath hitch. His hands slide down to the hem of his shirt then, tugging lightly. “Can I take this off, baby?” he asks, his voice a gentle whisper. “Wanna play with your nipples a bit.”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly, knowing how sensitive he is there. He nods his head and raises his arms, letting Harry lift his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side. Harry settles between his legs again, both hands drifting up to thumb at the tiny, rosy little buds on either side of Louis’s chest, staring down at them fondly. And Louis bites his lip, watching as they harden and pucker helplessly at the attention.  
  
  
Harry pulls one of his thumbs away, tipping his chin to blow against Louis’s nipple. And Louis squirms where he’s pinned underneath him. “You have –” Harry murmurs, pausing to press a kiss to the skin, “the cutest – ” he circles the areola with his tongue, “ _tiniest_ little nipples I’ve ever seen.” Louis flushes at that, and the next thing he knows, Harry wraps his lips around his nipple and starts to suck.  
  
  
Louis’s mouth falls open a bit, emitting a tiny puff of air. Harry has never sucked on his nipples before. It’s such a strange sensation, light and so fucking _tingly_ it’s almost frustrating. Harry does it teasingly too, switching from gentle little sucks to hard tugs with his lips. His mouth has always been obscene – wide and framed with plush, pink lips, but it looks even dirtier like this, latched onto the tiny bud of Louis’s nipple, making wet little suckling sounds. A soft moan falls from Louis’s mouth and he feels Harry smirk against him, pulling off with a slight _pop_. “Sensitive, too.”  
  
  
Harry switches sides then, giving Louis’s other nipple some attention. He gets it wet with his tongue and then pulls away just to breathe against the skin, raising the tiny dots that surround his areola into goosebumps. His mouth is all tight suction and heat, wet lips tugging on Louis’s nipple until it’s puffy and oversensitive. Each little flick off his tongue goes straight to Louis’s cock. He can feel it filling up, digging into Harry’s stomach where he lies between his legs.  
  
  
Harry makes soft, pleased little humming noises while he sucks, his eyes closed in bliss. And then he starts to use his teeth, nibbling _excruciatingly_ gently at the hardened little nub. Louis lets out a squeak and ruts his hips up, dragging the bulge at the front of his pants against Harry’s belly for some relief. But Harry just pins his hips down with his hands, keeps sucking like he’s hungry for it, until his nipple is all pink and sore and used.  
  
  
“ _Ah_ – Harry,” Louis protests, oversensitive, “too – _too much_.”  
  
  
Harry pulls off, gently rubbing the soreness away with his thumbs. He slides up and buries his face in Louis’s neck with a weak groan. “God, I love how responsive you are. It’s so fucking hott,” he whispers, grinding his hips down. And Louis can feel his cock, big and hard against his inner thigh.  
  
  
Harry leans up for a kiss and Louis parts his lips for him instantly, letting him lick inside. The kiss is soft but there’s _heat_ passing between them, or maybe that’s just the blood swelling in Louis’s prick. He wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and bucks his hips up, brushing himself needily against the solid bulge in Harry’s boxers, making desperate little sounds against his lips. And Harry groans, rocking back against him.  
  
  
“ _Baby_ ,” Harry whispers approvingly between kisses, his hands going everywhere, squeezing at Louis’s hips and sliding around to grope possessively at his arse. “My baby, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and nods, feeling little and wanted and _Harry’s_. Harry ruts his hips down harder, his cock a thick, unrelenting column where it’s pressed to Louis’s, and Louis breaks the kiss on a gasp. Harry pulls back, watching his face as he grinds into him. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, ducking his head to kiss along Louis’s neck. And Louis drags his hands down Harry’s back, pulls him even closer, wants to _feel_ him.  
  
  
They do this almost every night now, get off with each other in bed. Harry will bring him to orgasm with his hands or his mouth, or more recently, his fingers. It’s always amazing, always leaves Louis shivery and whimpering while Harry whispers secret, dirty things against his neck; how pretty he looks, how hard Daddy’s cock is for him, until Louis is coming wet and warm and lovely. It’s amazing, always is, but…but Louis can’t help wanting to take it further, now. He wants to be even closer to Harry, and he’s ready, he’s _so_ ready, he _knows_ he is, but…but Harry never even tries for more, always pulling back before it goes too far. And Louis can’t help but to wonder sometimes if _he’s_ the problem, if the truth is Harry just doesn’t want that much with him.  
  
  
“Harry…” he whispers.  
  
  
“Mm? What is it, love?” Harry murmurs from where he’s buried in Louis’s neck, nipping and pecking at the skin there.  
  
  
“Uhm,” Louis swallows his nerves, ashamed that he has to ask for something like this. “I – can you – I mean, could we…tonight?”  
  
  
Harry suddenly freezes against him, his lips pausing mid-suck, exhaling heavily against his neck. “…Tonight?”  
  
  
Louis nods, and Harry sits up to meet his eyes, looking uncertain. “Are – are you _sure_?”  
  
  
Louis nods again, his face heating up. “Yeah, I – ” he pauses then, biting self-consciously at his lip. “I mean, if you don’t want to—”  
  
  
Harry furrows his brow, cutting him off. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, averting his eyes. “Just – you…you never like, tried for more so I thought – thought maybe you just didn’t want that, erm…with me.”  
  
  
Harry’s face falls, shaking his head before Louis has even finished speaking. “ _Baby_ ,” he groans, sounding pained. “You… _of course_ I want you. I – god, Louis, I’ve thought about it so much.” Louis flushes at that, and Harry cradles his cheek with his hand. “I just didn’t want to do anything before you were comfortable. You know how important that is to me.”  
  
  
Louis searches his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity there. He smiles, relieved, “…oh.”  
  
  
Harry smiles back, rubbing a soothing hand against his belly. It’s quiet for a moment, until Harry clears his throat. “So…you’re sure?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head, but he can still feel himself growing nervous, can’t help it. He starts to tremble a bit as Harry leans across the bed to dig the lube out of the drawer of the nightstand. Then he crawls back between Louis’s legs, kissing him sweetly and petting at his hair. “’m gonna be really careful with you,” he murmurs, “but, please tell me if you need me to slow down, okay? Even if you want to stop. Don’t keep going just for my benefit.” He kisses him again. “I can never let myself hurt you.”  
  
  
Louis nods, taking a nervous breath.  
  
  
Harry frowns then, touching his cheek. “You’re shaking.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “can’t help it – just, nervous. But I want this, I promise.”  
  
  
Harry smiles softly, “Me too, baby. So much.” He leans in to kiss his forehead. “Just try to relax, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, and then Harry is kissing him to calm him down. He holds him so, so close, like he’s made of porcelain, like he’s something _precious,_ and Louis’s chest practically aches with the weight of what he feels for him.  
  
  
Harry sits back on his haunches then, carding his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face. He exhales deeply, like he’s trying to collect himself, and maybe Louis isn’t the only one who’s nervous. Harry reaches out to touch him, and it feels so much more charged than before, gentle hands skirting down the sides of his torso. His fingers slip under the waistband of his underwear and Louis lifts his hips obediently, letting Harry tug them down over his legs. He kisses at Louis’s ankle before dragging his briefs off completely, tossing them to the floor. Harry tugs himself out of his own boxers next so that they’re both naked in bed and _holy shit_ , this is really happening.  
  
  
Louis lies very still, his heart stuttering anxiously in his chest as he watches Harry spread some lube on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up. They’ve done this quite a few times already, but this – this is different. Instead of it being a means to get Louis off, it’s actually going further this time, _prepping_ him for Harry’s cock.  
  
  
Harry lies back down by his side and slips his hand between Louis’s thighs, drifting lower. He touches tentatively at his hole, brushing his fingers in small circles and spreading the lubricant.  
  
  
It’s a slow process. Harry spends _ages_ working him open, extra careful and thorough this time, until he’s got three of his long fingers hooked inside Louis’s body. His knuckles brush over the fleshy little nub of his prostate and Louis keens for it, pushing his hips down into the touch. His cock has softened a bit from his nerves and Harry ducks his head, sucking the tip into his mouth.  
  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” Louis whispers, digging his fingers into his hair with a slight tug.  
  
  
Harry hums approvingly around his cockhead, lapping at the precome that dribbles out from his slit. He curls his fingers, rubbing insistently at his spot. And Louis whines from all of the stimulation. “O-okay – ready, ‘m ready.”  
  
  
Harry pulls his mouth away but just keeps wiggling his fingertips, watching Louis with rapt attention, his pupils blown. Louis cries out in anguish, pressing his palms to his eyes. “C-can’t,” he pleads, shaking his head, “gonna make me come – don’t wanna come like this.”  
  
  
Harry pulls his fingers out and slowly pushes back in, relieving some of the constant pressure, but still making sure Louis is gagging for it. “No?” he questions innocently. “How do you want to come, Louis?”

  
He bites his lip, swallowing hard. “With you – inside…Wanna feel you when I come,” he whispers, his face heating up. It’s never been easy for him to say these things out loud, but he’s just far gone enough to not hold back. “Just – make me yours, Harry. Please.”  
  
  
Harry’s mouth falls open a bit and then he curses under his breath, quickly pulling his fingers out. He fumbles for the lube, drizzling some into his hand as he sits back on his calves. Louis watches as he slicks up his cock and – Jesus, is that really going to fit?  
  
  
Harry pumps himself slowly, squeezing at the base. “You’re already mine, baby,” he whispers.  
  
  
He wipes his hand off on the sheets, reaching up to the head of the bed for a pillow. He wraps an arm under Louis’s back, lifting him effortlessly at the hips and tucking the pillow under his bum. And then he’s kissing him, a little messy because they’re both breathing hard, and Louis can’t stop shaking. Harry settles between his legs, spreading them open more, crooking one of his knees a bit. He exhales heavily, rubbing a comforting hand at Louis’s hip. “Okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his heart fluttering with how patient Harry is with him, always taking care of him. He holds his breath, willing his muscles to relax, and watches as Harry grips his cock at the base, positioning himself at Louis’s hole. And then Louis feels his cockhead, wet and thick and prodding at his rim. He releases the breath he was holding and then Harry is nudging forward, until the tip of his cock slips inside of him with a wet _pop_.  
  
  
“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Harry gasps out suddenly – _loud_ and unexpected. He buries his face in Louis’s neck, his eyes clenched shut in apparent anguish.  
  
  
Louis freezes, confused. “W-what’s wrong?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head with a low groan. “You’re so fucking _tight_.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, embarrassed. “Er – sorry.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head again, chuckling warmly against his throat. “It’s not a bad thing, baby, trust me. Just hope I don’t come too soon. You feel,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “really, really good.”  
  
  
Louis blushes, pleased at that, “oh.”  
  
  
Harry takes a steadying breath, slowly nudging himself a bit further inside. He makes it a few more centimeters before Louis lets out a cry – a _painful_ one. His eyes clench shut, hips shying away from the intrusion. Harry is so thick, stretching him so much more than his fingers did, and it _stings_.  
  
  
Harry freezes at the sound. “…Louis?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip.  
  
  
Harry studies his face, eyes full of concern. “Should I pull out?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head again, his hands gripping at Harry’s biceps, “no – just. Don’t move for a second.”  
  
  
Harry exhales, trying to calm his body down. He can feel the blood pulsing through his cockhead, throbbing dully where it’s wrapped up so perfectly inside of Louis. Every cell in his body is screaming at him to fuck into that tight heat, but he ignores it, knows that he has to hold back, has to be careful not to hurt him.  
  
  
“O-okay,” Louis breathes after a moment, “try to move again.”  
  
  
Harry swallows hard, nudging a bit more inside…and Louis hisses in pain, pulling his hips away.  
  
  
Harry frowns, absolutely hating that look on Louis’s face. He just wants to make him feel _good_. “Louis…” he says, apprehensive. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop? I won’t be disappointed if you do, baby, I promise.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, determined. He can’t stop now, not when they’re finally this close. “No, no, I want this.”  
  
  
Harry starts to pull out anyway, and Louis makes a sad sound of protest.  
  
  
“Shh,” Harry placates, “s’okay, I just need to add more lube.”  
  
  
He slicks up his cock once more, squeezing at the base to relieve some of the ache. And then he positions himself between Louis’s legs again, lining himself up at his hole. He bites down hard on his lip as he pushes the tip back inside. “ _God_ ,” Harry whispers, his eyelashes fluttering with how good Louis feels. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”  
  
  
Louis flushes as he watches Harry’s face, parting his thighs a bit more for him. And Harry smiles down at him, “Sorry,” he whispers, rubbing a comforting hand at his hip. “I know it hurts, but it will get better fast.” He ducks his head to drop a kiss to his cheek. “’m gonna make it so, so good for you, I promise.”  
  
  
Louis shivers at that and nods his head, breathing unsteadily against Harry’s skin.  
  
  
Harry grips both hands around his hips, preparing to push in some more. He glances down to where Louis’s cock is lying against his belly, softened a bit by now. “Baby, why don’t you touch yourself a little bit?”  
  
  
Louis looks up at him curiously. He’s not supposed to touch. “…I’m allowed?”  
  
  
Harry nods with a little smile. “Just for now. Might make it easier, yeah? No coming, though.”  
  
  
Louis exhales shyly, “’kay.” He reaches down and slips his fingers around his little prick, tugging on it, his cheeks a bit pink. He feels embarrassed playing with himself like this while Harry watches.  
  
  
Harry must notice his hesitance though, because he smiles reassuringly. “Look so lovely like this, little hand wrapped around your cock. Does it feel good?”  
  
  
Louis can only imagine how red he must be right now. He nods, sighing as he swipes his thumb against his slit, sticky with precome. It’s a good distraction, allowing Harry to sink even further inside, the glide smoother now thanks to the extra lube. He moves slow and gradually, pausing at certain intervals to let Louis adjust to the stretch. And when Louis’s breathing finally begins to hitch in pleasure rather than pain, Harry pulls his hand away from his cock, kissing the inside of his wrist before setting it down on the bed.  
  
  
Harry leans down to nuzzle at his neck then, lips parted on an exhale. “You’re doing so, so good, sweetheart.”  
  
  
Louis looks down to where Harry is entering him, the thick base of his cock still visible, blushing burgundy and peeking out from a small patch of dark hair. He feels so stuffed and stretched around him already, it’s amazing there’s still more left. “It’s – ” he pauses and bites his lip, blushing a bit. “You’re, uhm, really big.”  
  
  
He feels Harry smirk against his neck, kissing him there. “I know, baby. But you’re taking me so well, aren’t you?”  
  
  
Louis mewls a little at the praise, watching as Harry presses in just a centimeter more, nudging closer and closer towards his spot. He buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. “ _Daddy_.”  
  
  
Harry lets out a low growl at that, his hips rutting forward involuntarily so that he finally bottoms-out. The word alone just _does_ something to him. Fortunately, Louis doesn’t seem to mind, just holds onto Harry tighter, his breath hitching needily. And for the first time, Harry pulls out almost all the way and then slowly sinks back in, switching up the angle and—  
  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Louis cries out, “oh _god_ , there – _there_.”  
  
  
It’s the most beautiful sound Harry has ever heard. He locks his hands around Louis’s waist, holding him in place as he fucks into that same spot, desperate to keep him whimpering like that. He grinds his hips nice and slow, so that Louis feels every inch of his cock, dragging inside him. “Right there?” Harry whispers down to him, already knowing the answer.  
  
  
Louis whines and nods, his hands clutching at Harry’s forearms. Harry gives it to him slowly, careful not to be too rough, making Louis gasp with every pump of his hips. The blunt head of his cock nudges right up against his spot each time he sinks into him, and it makes Louis’s whole body shudder, clenching down tight around him. And Harry’s head drops back with a groan at the feeling. “ _Fuck_ , baby.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that and reaches out his arms, wants Harry closer. Harry immediately complies, leaning forward so that their chests are aligned. He hitches Louis’s thighs up around his waist and settles between his legs, kissing him softly. “That better?”  
  
  
Louis nods and wraps his arms around his back, clinging to him tight as Harry fucks him. He keeps making these high, desperate noises that are driving Harry _insane_ , urging him to fuck him harder. He bites possessively at his neck. “I’ve wanted this for _so long_ ,” Harry tells him, “been dreaming about how you’d feel, so little and tight around my cock – _fuck_ – never came close to this.”  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound. He likes when Harry praises him. Harry kisses at his jaw. “You feel okay, love? Need me to slow down?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “You – uhm. You can go a bit faster if – if you want.”  
  
  
Harry smirks, pleased, and picks up the pace of his hips, until the wet slap of skin echoes around the room. Louis is panting now, keening each time Harry’s cockhead brushes at his sweet spot just right. His body shivers with it, every nerve ending lit up white-hot and tingling. “Feels so good – _oh_ ,” he whispers brokenly.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles at his neck. “Gonna fuck you like this every day, Louis,” Harry promises, “as many times as you want, baby, anything for you.”  
  
  
Louis’s nails dig even hard into his back at that so Harry keeps going, “Gonna fuck you ‘til you’re coming all over yourself,” he pants against his neck, “And then I’m gonna clean you up and carry you to bed, hold you all night long. Gonna take care of you forever.”  
  
  
Somehow, that affects Louis even more than the dirty talk did, the thought of having Harry forever. He clings to him tighter, lost to the feeling of Harry nailing his prostate over and over, holding him so gently but fucking him hard. “ _Harry_ ,” he whimpers.  
  
  
“Never gonna let anything bad happen to you,” Harry whispers, “Love you so much.”  
  
  
And Louis just – he _breaks_. So overwhelmed from Harry’s words and the way Harry is making him feel. He’s so close, feels so fucking good he lets out a tiny sob. Harry keeps that same angle, rolling his hips in sharp thrusts that have Louis gasping prettily and clawing at his back, his cock bouncing on his tummy between them. Harry reaches down to take hold of it, stroking in time with his thrusts. “So perfect baby, wanna make you come,” Harry murmurs, kissing at the tears on his cheeks, his big hand tugging on Louis’s cockhead. “Please, baby. Please come for me.”  
  
  
And Louis clings to him with a cry, his cock spurting between them, coming harder than Harry has ever seen. The sight alone has him coming as well, pulling out at the last second to spill onto Louis’s belly with a long, drawn-out moan. And then Harry collapses beside him, boneless and panting and _holy shit_.  
  
  
  
  
When he regains the feeling in his legs, Harry slips into the en-suite and runs a hot bath, sex-hazed and sleepy. He goes back to the bedroom to find Louis exactly where he left him, curled up small on top of the sheets. He looks a bit wrecked, Harry proudly notes, with mussed up hair and glossy eyes, but smiles up at him shyly. That is, until Harry gathers him into his arms and scoops him up from the bed.  
  
  
Louis wiggles in his protest. “Where are we going?”  
  
  
“Gonna take a bath,” Harry tells him, patting his hip.  
  
  
Louis wrinkles his nose. “Can’t we just use a flannel? ‘m sleepy.”  
  
  
Harry steps up to the tub and sets Louis down beside it, steadying him on his feet. “I think the hot water will be good for you, baby. You might, er…be a bit sore.”  
  
  
Louis flushes indignantly, but when he moves to climb up the steps into the bath, he feels it –  yep, his bum hurts. Great. His cheeks redden even more at that, and Harry helps him up without a word, following him into the tub.  
  
  
“You and that massive cock of yours,” Louis laments, his face scrunched up in discomfort as he eases into a sitting position.  
  
  
Harry sits down beside him, reaching for a flannel. “It won’t always be like this,” he assures, “Just takes some getting used to.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t admit that he actually kind of likes the hurt. He feels…well, _claimed_ , really.  
  
  
Harry pulls him onto his lap, carefully of course, rubbing the flannel against the dried cum on his tummy. “Was it worth it, at least?” he asks, pecking a kiss to his temple.  
  
  
Louis smiles and tucks himself under Harry’s chin. “…I’m gonna want it like that every time, you know,” he whispers, poking a finger at Harry’s limp cock. “You’ve got a lot to live up to.”  
  
  
Harry laughs, his chest rumbling warmly where it’s pressed against Louis’s side. “Baby, I was going easy on you this time.”  
  
  
Louis smiles but doesn’t say anything else, just nuzzles at Harry’s collarbone as he washes him, petting at his skin with the flannel. Afterwards, they slip into fresh pyjamas and Louis curls up on the armchair in the corner while Harry strips the bed, insistent on changing the sheets.  
  
  
When he’s finished, he turns out the lights and gathers Louis up in his arms, carries him to bed just like he promised. Exhausted, they fall asleep only moments after their heads touch the pillows, with Harry’s nose tucked into his favourite spot, the soft little hairs behind Louis’s ear.  



	9. Idle Hands

Louis wakes up the next morning with blankets tucked in close around him, keeping him warm from the usual cold air of the master bedroom. He blinks up at the ceiling, squinting against the sunlight that creeps in through a gap in the curtains. Harry’s side of the bed is empty, but Louis can hear his voice coming from inside the closet, clearly on the phone with someone.  
  
  
“…Nine o’clock…Yes…and that’s the office on Wiltshire? …And the room number? ...Right. See you then.”  
  
  
Louis peels back the sheets and climbs from the bed, wincing at the slight ache in his lower back as he stands. He pads across the carpet to Harry’s closet, rubbing a closed fist at his eye as he peers inside. Harry has his back to him, his shoulders flexed as he slips into a button-up top, the burgundy one with white polka dots that Louis loves.  
  
  
He taps his fingernail against the doorframe and Harry looks around in surprise, before his face melts into that soft expression reserved just for Louis. “Hi, baby,” he murmurs.   
  
  
“Hi,” Louis whispers back, just a little shy.  
  
  
Harry steps closer then, lifting his arm to pull him into a hug. Louis snuggles in close and nuzzles at his chest a bit, breathing in his cologne with a sigh. He’s feeling rather clingy this morning, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He drops a kiss to Louis’s hair. “Sorry, did I wake you?”  
  
  
Louis just shrugs. “Where are you going?”  
  
  
Harry reluctantly pulls away then, stepping hastily into his shoes. “Have a meeting with my lawyer. Gonna try to sort out yesterday’s mess.” He grabs his Burberry coat from the rack and Louis follows him out of the closet. He watches as Harry collects his wallet from the bedside table, checking the digital clock on his iPhone. “Wish I didn’t have to go,” he laments, slipping them both into his pocket. “I should be cuddling you right now.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs with a little smile. “Would be nice.”  
  
  
Harry pulls him into another quick hug, his hands rubbing gentle circles against the small of his back. “How are you feeling? Still sore?”  
  
  
Louis flushes a bit but rolls his eyes, amused by Harry fussing over him. “I’ll survive.”  
  
  
“Alright,” Harry sighs, “I’d better leave now so I’m not late. Go ahead and go back to sleep.”  
  
  
Harry starts towards the door, taking about five hurried steps before he suddenly slows down, pausing in place. He hesitantly turns around, looking back at Louis. “Oh, and also…when I get home, we need to talk about something.”  
  
  
Louis falters… _that_ doesn’t sound good. “Oh,” he says, trying for nonchalance. “Are we – is everything okay?”  
  
  
Harry smiles softly and walks back to his side, tipping his chin to press a kiss to his lips. “We’re perfect, baby. Please don’t worry. I’ll be home later, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, stealing another quick kiss before Harry is gone, the door clicking shut behind him. And Louis climbs back into bed, hugging a pillow to his chest as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

 

 

 

  
  
  
On the other side of the house, Zayn wakes up tucked inside the crook of Liam’s arm. There’s a half-hard bulge pressing against his arse and he pushes back against it, grinding his hips until he feels Liam’s cock fill up with interest.   
  
  
Zayn rolls over on top of him then, straddling his waist. They’re both still drowsy and half-asleep, just awake enough for lazy morning sex. Zayn wiggles himself backwards until Liam’s cock slips between his cheeks, nudging and catching on his hole. He’s still a bit wet and open from the night before, when Liam fucked him from behind.  
  
  
Liam groans, his eyes still closed. “Morning, babe,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep.  
  
  
Zayn noses at Liam’s chest, latching his mouth to the skin just above his nipple and lazily sucking a mark there. He ruts his hips a bit, dragging his cock against the hard slab of Liam’s abdomen until precome dribbles out, trailing wetly. Liam’s hands rise up then to grip at his hips, guiding him back onto his cock. The tip slips inside and Zayn moans, his rim stretched tight around it. “Yeah, please –  _fuck me_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Liam smirks sleepily. “Still want more? Even after last night?”  
  
  
Zayn nods against his chest. “Always want it – want you.”  
  
  
Liam smiles at that, moving his hands up to knead at Zayn’s arse. He spreads him open and pushes his cock further inside with shallow pumps of his hips, feeling Zayn’s body give into the stretch. He’s still so fucking tight around him, it’s bliss. “ _God_ ,” Liam whispers, licking his lips.   
  
  
He lazily rolls his hips and Zayn moans in gratitude, his mouth falling open when he feels the thick head of his cock prodding at his prostate. “nnm – f- _fuck_.”  
  
  
“…There?” Liam breathes.  
  
  
Zayn nods vehemently, gripping at his bicep. Liam plants both feet on the bed then, rocking his hips up and making Zayn bounce on his cock. He lies limp and pliant across his chest, his body giving a jolt whenever Liam nails his sweet spot just right. He lets out a small whine and buries his face against Liam’s chest, a little chorus of  _ah, ah, ah_  muffled against the skin.  
  
  
“Harder,” Zayn begs, and Liam drops his hand, spanking his arse before giving in to the request. He grips Zayn around the waist to hold him still and pushes his cock deep inside, moving in a way that has him crying out with every sharp snap of his hips.   
  
  
“Li –  _Liam_ ,” he pants, eyes clenched shut.   
  
  
“Feel good, babe?” Liam asks, a hint of smugness in his voice because he already knows the answer.  
  
  
“ _God_ ,” Zayn gasps out with a nod, spreading his thighs to take him even deeper.  
  
  
Liam tilts his chin, kissing at Zayn’s ear. “Feel  _so_  good on my cock,” he breathes. “Gonna make me come so hard.”  
  
  
Zayn mewls at the praise, his mouth hanging open a bit, wet lips dragging against Liam’s chest, lost to the feeling of his cockhead drilling into his prostate. “Oh my  _god_ ,” he whimpers, because he’s so fucking  _close_.  
  
  
Above him, Liam is breathing hard, his balls tightening up and slapping obscenely with each pump of his hips. He pushes Zayn down hard onto his cock, listening to him whine for it. “You gonna come for me?” he breathes.   
  
  
Zayn nods with an anguished groan. “Yeah –  _fuck_  – make me come. Please.”  
  
  
Liam gets a hand between them then and wraps his fingers around Zayn’s cock, pumping it between his fist. Zayn cries out at the stimulation, and it only takes three more pulls, paired with a perfectly aimed thrust, before he’s spurting wetly across Liam’s abdomen, shaking through his orgasm. His body clenches around Liam’s cock so tight his eyes roll back, and then he’s sent over the edge as well, spilling inside him with a grunt.   
  
  
Sated and sleepy, Liam pulls out and maneuvers Zayn’s limp body back onto the mattress, spooning up behind him as they drift back off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
Later that afternoon, Louis finds himself alone at the house for what feels like the first time in weeks. Liam and Zayn are out visiting Liam’s mum for the day, while Harry has yet to return home from his lawyer’s office. It’s quiet in the house with everyone gone, and Louis quickly grows bored with crap TV shows. He wanders around the downstairs for a while, searching for something to do.  
  
  
Eventually, he winds up in the kitchen, unloading steamed cutlery from the dishwasher. And yeah, Louis  _knows_  he must be bored if he’s volunteering to do housework. But truthfully, he’s also in need of a distraction at the moment…He can’t stop wondering what exactly Harry meant before he left that morning, when he said they needed to talk about something. He told Louis not to worry, of course, but…well, he can’t help but to feel a bit paranoid. Maybe he’s done something wrong, something he hasn’t even realised.   
  
  
Whatever it is, he doesn’t have to wait too much longer to find out. As he’s tucking the last fork into the silverware drawer, he hears the rumble of the garage door. And with a sigh of both relief and trepidation, Louis drops the dishtowel onto the counter and heads to the den, deciding to wait for Harry on the couch.  
  
  
He steps inside only moments later, shrugging out of his coat but appearing to be in a good mood. He crosses through the foyer into the den, smiling when he sees Louis. “Hey, love,” he murmurs, leaning down to press their lips together, kissing him quick and just a bit dirty. Then he plops down on the couch with a sigh. “What a day.”  
  
  
“Did everything go okay?” Louis asks.  
  
  
Harry nods. “Yeah, my lawyer’s actually built a great case, it was just a lot of paperwork, is all.” He looks over to Louis then. “What about you? Had a good day?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “Liam and Zayn went to Karen’s house, so I was a bit bored here by myself.”  
  
  
Harry frowns sympathetically. “Sorry, love.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs again, “s’okay.” It falls silent then, and Louis tucks his feet under his legs, curling himself up small at the corner of the couch. “Erm, so…you said we needed to talk about something?”  
  
  
At the other end of the couch, Harry sighs. “Yeah,” he says, carding a hand up through his hair. “It’s about last night.”  
  
  
Louis feels his face heat, his pulse quickening anxiously. Their  _first time_  was last night. In the moment, he had thought that Harry rather liked it a lot but…maybe not. Maybe Louis’s lack of experience was too obvious to be a turn-on. “Did – uhm, was it okay?” he asks, picking self-consciously at the hem of his shirt to avoid Harry’s eyes.  
  
  
Harry watches him with a raised brow, before scooting across the cushions to Louis’s side. “Baby…” he says, taking Louis’s hand to stop him from fidgeting. “It wasn’t just  _okay_. You – god, Louis you felt so good. You made  _me_  feel so good, and I’ve never felt so close to you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along the back of Louis’s knuckles. Louis glances up to meet his eyes then, and Harry smiles softly. “Last night meant everything to me, baby. I really hope you know that.”   
  
  
Louis smiles back, flushing with relief. “I – me too,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “It was everything.”  
  
  
Harry brings his hand up to his lips, kissing at the inside of his wrist. And Louis preens at the affection, shifting a bit on the couch. “So, uhm. What did you want to talk about then?”  
  
  
Harry sits up a bit, keeping Louis’s hand held in his lap. “Well…we didn’t use any birth control.”  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow, looking up at him. “But…didn’t you—?”  
  
  
Harry nods. “I pulled out, yeah. At the last second. But, you know…that isn’t always effective.”  
  
  
Louis gapes at him. “So you mean – you think I could be  _pregnant?_ ” he whispers, glancing down at his stomach, as if he’ll find some sort of confirmation there.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t think it’s very  _likely_. I just – it’s my fault, really. I know we should have talked about this stuff before but I just…just wanted you so badly, I guess I got a little impulsive,” he admits. “So, I apologize for that.”   
  
  
Louis looks shyly down at his lap. “You don’t have to apologize...”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “I had condoms that we could have used but…it was our first time and I just really wanted to feel you. All of you,” he sighs. “Next time I won’t be so careless.”  
  
  
Something occurs to Louis then, and he snaps his head up, looking confusedly at Harry. “Wait, so…does this mean you…you don’t want a baby?”  
  
  
Harry sighs again, contemplative. “Not right now.”  
  
  
Louis’s face falls at that, dejected, and a little confused. The thought of having a baby with Harry is something he was really looking forward to. He thought that maybe now that they finally had sex…well, truthfully, he was hoping that Harry would want to get him pregnant as soon as possible. But apparently not.  
  
  
Harry watches him closely, frowning a bit. “You’re upset,” he observes, his voice soft and a little sad.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, keeping his gaze held on his lap. “Just…I promise I’d take good care of it…”  
  
  
Harry scoots closer, wrapping his arms around him to hold him close against his chest, his hand rubbing comforting circles at Louis’s soft waist. “I know you would, baby, I know. It’s not that, I don’t think that at all. I just think we should wait a bit…You’ve only been here for two months now and I think we should take it slow. I don’t want to rush anything.”  
  
  
Louis pouts, and then places a reverent hand on his stomach. “But…what if I’m already…?” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry kisses his temple. “Then we’ll love it and welcome it with open arms. But we’re going to start using protection now, okay?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “For how long?”  
  
  
“Not long,” Harry assures him, shaking his head. “I think we should give it three more months.”  
  
  
…Three months? Well, that’s not  _too_  terrible of a wait, Louis thinks. Could be worse.  
  
  
“Is that okay?” Harry whispers down to him.  
  
  
Louis shrugs, unable to shake off that remaining ounce of disappointment.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles at his hair. “Do you hate me?”  
  
  
Louis vehemently shakes his head, leaning into Harry’s touch. “Could never hate you.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Because I love you very much, and I just want what’s best for you. And for us.”  
  
  
Louis nods, still frowning a bit where he’s tucked under Harry’s chin.   
  
  
Harry pushes him back then, gently, until he’s lying flat against the couch cushions, his head perched on the armrest. He spreads Louis’s thighs open a bit and lies down between his legs, hovering over him. His hands come up to brush his fringe back from his eyes. “I don’t like when you’re sad,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
“’m not sad,” Louis pouts.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head with a knowing grin. Leaning down, he peppers Louis’s face with kisses, short little pecks against his cheeks and nose and forehead, until he’s giggling uncontrollably in protest, his eyes crinkling.   
  
  
And Harry smiles down at him fondly. “Much better.”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
Louis spends the following week marveling at the small possibility that he could be pregnant. Harry hasn’t mentioned it again since their conversation on the couch, but it keeps lingering in the back of Louis’s mind, that slightest chance of  _what if?  
  
  
_ On Wednesday, he takes a shower and then slips into his closet, checking that the coast is clear first. Once he’s sure he’s alone, he drops his towel and stands naked in front of the full-length mirror that sits beside his wardrobe, water droplets still clinging to his bare skin. He spends an unnecessarily long time staring at his tummy, turning to each side to get a look from every angle, and rubbing his hands over the flesh. He’s always had a bit of a pouch below his belly button, and it’s not like he could even  _notice_  a difference after only a few days but…guiltily, Louis has been imagining what it would feel like. To have a little bump there, his t-shirts stretched tight around it. A tiny, fragile life growing inside of him. _  
  
  
_ Three months couldn’t pass soon enough, really. _  
  
  
_ Eventually, he pulls his gaze from his reflection and starts to dress, tucking his soft cock into a pair of red cotton briefs. He sneaks into Harry’s closet next, in search of a shirt. Louis loves wearing Harry’s clothes, the way his smell clings to the fabric long after he’s taken them off. He decides on a tattered old Rolling Stones t-shirt, pulling it on over his damp hair. It slips down past his briefs, the hem reaching up high on his thighs. Then he slips out of the closet, smiling to himself. He knows Harry has a  _thing_  for seeing Louis in his clothes, too. _  
  
  
_ Louis trails down the hall then, pausing outside of Harry’s office. Peering inside, he finds him sitting in the upholstered armchair-on-wheels behind his desk, staring at his computer screen with a slightly furrowed brow. Louis raises his fist, knocking softly on the door panel. _  
  
  
_ Harry glances up at him. “Hey, love.” _  
  
  
_ “Hi,” Louis says. “Erm, is it okay if I hang out in here with you?”  
  
  
Harry nods. “Sure, go ahead.”  
  
  
Louis smiles and steps inside, pulling the door closed behind him. He makes himself comfortable on the couch against the opposite wall, finding his MacBook tucked underneath. He turns it on and waits for it to load, the white Apple logo glowing faintly on the screen. When he glances up at Harry, he finds him with his nose still buried in paperwork. And Louis bites his lip, before typing “early pregnancy symptoms” into the Google searchbar. He wants to be prepared, is all. So he knows what to be on the lookout for. You know…just in case.  
  
  
He spends the next half hour researching, sifting through the plethora of pregnancy websites the Internet has to offer. They say not to expect any symptoms until around week three, and basically all come up with a list of the same things: cramps and nausea, fatigue and frequent urination, sensitive nipples and a possible increase in sex drive. Louis blushes a bit, wondering how Harry would react to those last two.  
  
  
He had thought that maybe reading up on some of the not-so-nice symptoms would put him off on wanting to get pregnant, but researching has only made him all the more excited for it. He just can’t wait to have a baby, to have his tummy all rounded out because of  _Harry_. The thought alone has him feeling a little warm under his shirt collar, and he’s met with an overwhelming urge to be closer to his dom.  
  
  
Carefully, he closes out of each tab and shuts the lid to the MacBook, tucking it back under the couch. Then he stands up and tiptoes across the floor, maneuvering around Harry’s desk. He comes to a stop beside his chair, his hands folded behind his back. “Can I sit with you?”  
  
  
Harry pulls his attention away from his computer then, turning to Louis. He seems to take in the way he looks for the first time, his gaze dropping down to where the shirt hem reaches Louis’s thighs, before slowly drifting back up to his face. He smiles knowingly, patting his lap for Louis to climb up.  
  
  
Louis goes a little eagerly, sitting sideways in Harry’s lap, curled up against his chest with his arms hugging around his waist. He preens when he feels Harry drop a kiss to the top of his head. “Wearing my clothes, hm?”  
  
  
“Sorry,” Louis hides his smile against Harry’s collarbone, “They’re more comfortable than mine."  
  
  
Harry doesn’t say anything to that, just kisses his hair again and sets back to work.  
  
  
It’s quiet for a while, the silence interrupted only by keyboard clicks and the filter of the aquarium tank, bubbling gently against the far wall. Louis sits quietly with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder, eventually lifting his chin to bury his nose against his neck. He breathes him in, the spicy scent of his cologne, and underneath that, skin and body and musk and just  _Harry_. It’s his favourite smell in the world, makes his mouth water a bit.  
  
  
He presses his lips against the skin of Harry’s throat, soft, lingering little pecks that quickly turn into open mouth kisses, until he’s sucking at Harry’s skin. Harry seems unaffected on the surface, but Louis can feel his body heat radiating from under his button-up, and he thinks maybe his heart is beating a bit faster than before.  
  
  
He doesn’t know why he feels so turned on right now, his cock filling up inside his briefs. This is just the effect Harry has on him, even when he’s not doing anything at all but typing numbers into a spreadsheet, and still, Louis is just…well, really fucking horny, to be honest. He pulls his mouth from Harry’s throat with a wet little suckling noise, nuzzling under his ear. “Daddy…?” he whispers, uncertain.  
  
  
Harry’s fingers falter against the keyboard for a split second before he pulls one hand away, patting at Louis’s hip. “Gonna have to wait, baby, I need to finish this.”  
  
  
Louis frowns, sliding his hand down Harry’s chest to rest against his abdomen. He can feel the ridge of his muscles underneath, and fuck, that’s not helping at all. He returns his lips to Harry’s neck, reverently at first, waiting for Harry to tell him to stop. He doesn’t though, so Louis keeps going, sucking and nibbling until a mark appears, blushing against the pale skin. Meanwhile, the hand on Harry’s stomach keeps drifting lower and lower, over his hips and the leather of his belt. Louis mewls against his neck once he feels him,  _hard_  and straining against his trousers. Again, he waits for Harry to tell him to stop, but again, Harry doesn’t, letting Louis touch him.   
  
  
He drags his fingertips over the long line of his cock, hiding his face in his neck with a pout. “Daddy, want it.”  
  
  
“I know you do, baby,” Harry murmurs. He turns his head to kiss Louis’s temple but makes no other move to touch him, and Louis’s skin is on  _fire_.  
  
  
Looking down, he can  _see_  Harry’s cock, the thick column of it bulging against the dark blue fabric, outlined along the inside of his thigh. He brushes his thumb against it, feels it twitch, and god, Louis just  _wants_. So much that he finds himself sliding down from Harry’s lap, crawling under the desk just to get a better look. (He thinks he might be  _slightly_  obsessed with Harry’s cock.)  
  
  
Harry looks down at him with a raised brow. Louis has never taken the initiative like this, before. His little hands drift up his thighs, pausing just below the zip of his fly. And Louis clears his throat, shyly. “Uhm, could I take these off?” he asks, his voice small and quiet. “Just – I wanna see.”  
  
  
Harry bites back a smirk and then shrugs, undoing his belt buckle before lifting his hips, pushing his pants down past his thighs a bit. His cock bobs free, slapping up towards his stomach with a blush of pink. Louis does nothing but stare for a moment, biting his lip, as Harry sets back to work, seemingly unaffected.  
  
  
Even from up close like this, Harry’s dick is, well, sort of perfect, really. Long and thick with a singular vein trailing up the underside, nicely rounded at the head. The tip is so smooth, the slit shiny and just a bit wet. And Louis licks his lips, has an overwhelming urge to  _taste_ , but – he’s never done this before.  
  
  
With a deep breath, he places both hands on Harry’s knees and then, hesitantly, he leans forward and gently licks at the tip of Harry’s cock.  
  
  
He hears Harry’s fingers slam against the keyboard overhead, his body giving a jolt of surprise. He sits back in his chair and looks under the desk at Louis, his brows practically touching his hairline.  
  
  
Louis flushes, guiltily. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Uhm, do you - is it okay if…can I suck you?”  
  
  
Harry just shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re unreal,” he murmurs.  
  
  
Louis averts his gaze, fingers playing with Harry’s pantleg. “Uhm, just – I’ve never done this before so, could you like, teach me?”  
  
  
Harry smiles reassuringly, nodding his head. “Just do whatever feels natural, baby, and I’ll guide you along.”  
  
  
Louis steadies himself with a nervous breath, scooting in a bit closer. The thickness of Harry’s cock is rather intimidating so he takes hold of it around the base with his hands, before slipping the tip into his mouth. He sucks on it like he would a lolly, letting saliva gather on his tongue, slurping a bit. And Harry actually  _moans_ , relaxing back in his chair with a blissful look on his face.  
  
  
Louis bobs his head experimentally, his lips wrapped around the mushroom-shaped head of Harry’s cock. He tries to take him as deep as he can, but Harry is so big that he only makes it about halfway down before he ends up gagging, pulling off completely with a sputtered cough.  
  
  
Harry immediately checks on him, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. “Shit, sorry –  you okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods and takes a deep breath, embarrassed. “Fine, just,” he bites his lip, his cheeks pink. “I don’t think I can fit it all...”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “That’s okay, love. Honestly it feels best for me if you just keep your mouth at the tip and let your hands do the rest. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, though.”  
  
  
Louis chews at his lip, determined to make this good for Harry. He slips both hands around the shaft of his cock and tries again, keeping Harry’s directions in mind. He relaxes his jaw, letting his cockhead push up against the soft tissue of his cheek as he slurps and sucks around him.  
  
  
Harry groans, his hand reaching under the desk to pet at Louis’s hair. “ _Fuck_  – yeah, perfect, baby. Just like that.”  
  
  
Louis practically beams at the praise. Encouraged, he tightens his lips and licks at Harry’s slit, eyes widening when he tastes something slick and salty on his tongue—Harry’s  _precome_. Louis moans at the thought, unknowingly making his mouth vibrate around Harry’s cockhead. And Harry curses, eyelashes fluttering.  
  
  
Louis bobs his head, feels Harry’s cock give an eager twitch inside his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, listening closely for Harry’s reactions. He keeps making these hushed little gasps of approval above him and Louis is  _addicted_  to it, hearing Harry moan for him.  
  
  
The shrill sound of Harry’s office phone rings through the silence then, startling them both. Harry reaches out to accept the call and Louis freezes with his mouth around his cock, not sure if he should stop or not.  
  
  
“Hello,” Harry says into the phone, sounding professional as always, belying the fact that he’s currently getting blown under the desk. He keeps his other hand in Louis’s hair, stroking softly behind his ear and urging him to continue.  
  
  
So Louis does, hollowing his cheeks as he suckles Harry’s cock between his lips, heavy on his tongue. Meanwhile, Harry keeps talking, keeping his voice steady. “Yes, have them check the air conditioning units in all of the penthouse suites.”  
  
  
Louis can hear the tinny voice of the person on the other end of the phone—a woman. And maybe it’s just his imagination, but she sounds like she’s trying to  _flirt_  with Harry, her voice soft and alluring. The thought spurs Louis on, makes him want to have Harry groaning and breathless, losing all semblance of control from Louis sucking his cock. Because only Louis gets to do this. Not anyone else, and definitely not her.  
  
  
He pulls off and then immediately suctions his lips to the underside of Harry’s dick, the sensitive bit of skin just below the ridge of his cockhead, sucking needily and flicking his tongue against it. And he smirks when he hears Harry’s fist slam down on the desktop, pulling his mouth away from the phone receiver to mutter a string of curses under his breath, paying no attention as the woman on the phone rambles on.  
  
  
Louis is satisfied to note how breathless he sounds when he finally speaks again. “Right, thank you. Have a good day.” Then he slams the phone down, sitting back to look under the desk at Louis, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
  
“That was naughty, love.”  
  
  
Louis just blushes with his mouth around Harry’s cock, peering up at him from under his eyelashes.  
  
  
“ _God_ ,” Harry murmurs in awe, pushing Louis’s fringe back with his fingers. “That pretty little mouth was  _made_  for my cock.”  
  
  
Louis blinks up at him innocently, pulling back to place tiny kitten licks against his tip.  
  
  
Harry clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Gonna kill me if you keep looking at me like that.”  
  
  
Louis smiles to himself and swallows him down again, bobbing his head a bit. And Harry cradles Louis’s head with both hands, setting the rhythm, his thumbs brushing at the soft spots behind his ears. Louis tongues at the slit when he comes up, greedily lapping up the precome that dribbles out. He peeks up and watches Harry, his head dropped back, eyes closed, mouth parted as he puffs out a little gasp. “Feels so good,” he breathes, licking his lips.  
  
  
Harry takes one of Louis’s hands then, guiding it down to his balls, urging him to touch him there. Louis does, rubbing them experimentally in his palm, and Harry jolts with a grunt. “Y-yeah, fuck. Just like that, baby –  _God_ , don’t stop.”  
  
  
Louis’s hand keeps massaging at Harry’s balls, his mouth sucking and slurping noisily around his cockhead, lips tight and wet and fizzing with spit and precome. His jaw is positively aching by now but it’s worth it to see Harry like this, so close to coming he’s starting to pant. His hips twitch like they’re desperate to fuck up into Louis’s throat but he restrains himself, being so, so gentle as he pets Louis’s hair and praises him.  
  
  
“Fuck – fuck,” Harry groans, quickly lifting Louis off his cock. He sits back in his chair and then gives himself a few short tugs with his own hand, until he’s coming in short spurts over his fingers, moaning indulgently through his orgasm.  
  
  
Louis blinks up at him and Harry gives him a smile, catching his breath. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “wasn’t sure if you’d want me to come in your mouth, your first time.”  
  
  
Louis just shrugs and watches as Harry relaxes back against the cushion with a long exhale, looking rather blissed out. He carefully tucks himself back into his trousers, then motions for Louis. “C’mere, baby.”  
  
  
Louis crawls obediently out from under the desk, climbing back up onto Harry’s lap, straddling him this time, his knees on either side of Harry’s thighs and his arms around his neck. Harry’s hands come up to settle on his soft waist, his gaze trailing all over Louis’s body.  
  
  
“Always look so cute in my t-shirts,” he says after a moment.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, letting Harry kiss his cheek. His lips slowly drift along his jaw, up to the hollow below his ear. “Y’know baby, even though I enjoyed that  _very_  much, you weren’t a very good boy today. Distracting me when I have work to do.”  
  
  
Louis shifts around guiltily on his lap. “Sorry."  
  
  
Harry kisses his neck, sucking hard at his pulse. His hands slide around to cup his bum, kneading at it over his briefs. “…Think if I gave you a good spanking you’d learn your lesson?”  
  
  
Louis’s breath catches. Harry has only spanked him once before, but never as punishment. He isn’t sure why his dick twitches with excitement at the thought. He’s still so fucking  _hard_.  
  
  
Harry stands then, cradling Louis in his arms as he walks around the desk and over to the couch. He sets Louis down beside it and has a seat in the middle, spreading his legs a bit, making himself comfortable. Then he pats his thigh.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, before lying down on his tummy across Harry’s lap. He rests his head on his folded arms, as Harry hikes up his t-shirt and trails a hand down Louis’s spine, causing goosebumps to sprout up across the skin. Then he slips his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down and letting them fall to the floor, exposing his bare arse to the cold air of the room.   
  
  
Harry places a hand in the center of his back, steadying him. “Do you know what you’re being punished for?"  
  
  
Louis clears his throat. “Erm, yes…you were working and I, uhm, distracted you.”  
  
  
Harry nods. “That’s right. I told you to wait, but you were impatient. Do you agree?”  
  
  
Louis shivers at the dominant tone of Harry’s voice and nods his head. “I was.”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “Rather greedy, too, I’d say.”  
  
  
Louis’s face  _flames_  and he buries it into the crook of his elbow. This is so  _embarrassing_ , but it’s turning him on like mad.  
  
  
“Now, what happens when you’re greedy and impatient, Louis?”  
  
  
Louis squirms a bit, and Harry tightens his hold on him. “…I get spanked,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry nods. “That’s right.” He raises his hand. “Think fifteen should do it.”

  
  
Louis braces himself, but he still gasps out when Harry’s hand falls, colliding against his arse with a loud  _smack_. A brief moment passes before he spanks him again, making Louis jolt in his lap. His dick is trapped against Harry’s thigh, still so hard and throbbing dully each time Harry’s hand connects with the sensitive, reddened skin, the pressure from each slap going straight to his prostate. He feels his face heat up with shame as he arches his back, pushing his arse out for more because he  _likes_  it, likes getting spanked. He isn’t sure why. Harry just smirks at his eagerness and drops his hand again, striking Louis’s bum in quick succession, little gasps of shock falling from his lips with each blow.  
  
  
Harry lands a spank right in the middle of his cheeks and Louis moans indulgently into his folded arms, feeling ashamed when drops of precome dribble out from his slit.   
  
  
He’s got three more to go when Harry pauses, bringing one hand up to the top of Louis’s arse. Using two fingers, he spreads him open a bit and then uses his other hand to spank him  _right over his hole_ until Louis’s crying out. “ _Oh!_ Fuck –  _DaddyDaddyDaddy_ ,” he gasps, rutting desperately against Harry’s thigh, and  _god_ , he just wants to be fucked so bad.  
  
  
Louis has tears in his eyes by the time Harry finishes, gently turning him over. He maneuvers them so that they’re lying back on the couch together, and Harry strokes at Louis’s hair, kissing his flaming cheeks.  
  
  
Louis still hasn’t come and it’s devastating. He’s so hard, feels like he’s been hard for  _ages_ , and it’s making him feel a bit feverish, desperate to come. “Daddy, please,” he whispers, clinging to Harry’s shirt, "need you."  
  
  
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Harry coos. “Want me to touch you?”  
  
  
Louis just whimpers and nods, staring despondently down at his prick, all pink and stiff and curved up towards his tummy.  
  
  
Harry has him lie flat on his back and then lies on his side next to him, his back pressed against the backrest of the couch. He has one arm around Louis’s head, the other draped over his torso, palm rubbing at his belly. He leans down to kiss him and Louis makes a needy little sound against his lips, so fucking gone for it. He’s dying for Harry to touch him, practically shaking as his big hand starts drifting lower, inching towards his cock. His fingers stroke at the sensitive bit of skin at the crease of Louis’s thigh, so infuriatingly teasing. Louis bites his lip to hold back a whine. Good boys aren’t greedy.  
  
  
Harry buries his face into his neck, nuzzling at the skin there. “I’m curious, baby,” he whispers, speaking slow, “Tell me, what was it that made you so impatient you just couldn’t wait to suck on my cock?”  
  
  
Louis trembles –  _Christ_ , he thinks he could come on the spot just from hearing Harry talk like that, all low and raspy and  _dirty_. “I –” he bites his lip, shaking his head, “don’t wanna say.”  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry muses, “Why not?”  
  
  
Louis frowns, staring resolutely up at the ceiling. “You’ll be mad…”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, peppering his neck with gentle kisses. “I won’t, sweetie, I promise. I’ll never be mad at you for being honest.” He sucks at Louis’s earlobe. “Please, baby? Please tell me?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly, throwing caution to the wind. “I was thinking about…about you getting me pregnant,” he admits, voice barely a whisper.  
  
  
He’s relieved when Harry smiles against his neck, nuzzling under his ear. “Mhmm? Anything else?”  
  
  
Louis’s face is on fire, drops of sweat prickling against his forehead and the back of his neck. “And… _gosh_ ,” he stops himself, shaking his head.  
  
  
Harry rubs a comforting hand at his hip. “You can tell me, love. It’s just me.”  
  
  
Louis clenches his eyes shut. “I – I was thinking about how it’s going to feel when…when you come inside me.”  
  
  
“ _Jesus_ ,” Harry groans. And then he’s crashing their lips together, hungrily going at Louis’s mouth while Louis whimpers into the kiss, so helpless he’s clinging to Harry like a vice, only seconds away from begging to be fucked. And then finally,  _finally_  Harry moves his hand to Louis’s cock.  
  
  
By now, Louis is so wound up it will take barely an instant to make him come, so Harry pumps him slowly on purpose, keeping a loose fist around him, barely a touch. Louis trembles while Harry plays with his swollen cock, taking his time, teasing him. Keeping him on a maddening edge that leaves Louis all squirmy and shivery and hot. Louis bucks his hips up into Harry's grip for more touch, his lips parted and letting out frustrated little gasps. " _Daddy_ ," he whimpers, "'m so hard, please -"  
  
  
Harry just leans in to nip at his neck, nuzzling possessively. "I love when you get like this," he whispers, lips brushing below his ear. "Love how desperate you get for it. For _Daddy_." Then he pushes his hips into Louis's side with a grunt. “Already got me hard again, baby, feel it?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry sucks at his pulse, grinding his hips against him. “Gonna let me fuck you?”  
  
  
Louis nods fervently - god, he wants it so bad, “mhm.”  
  
  
"Let me feel you all nice and tight on my cock?"  
  
  
Louis cries out in anguish - _he's so fucking close._  
  
  
Harry gives in then, swirling his fingers through the pearly mess at the tip of Louis's prick. “God, you’re getting  _so_  wet baby, look at you. Leaking all over my fingers.”  
  
  
Louis moans weakly. “D-Daddy…think I’m gonna come.”  
  
  
“That’s okay, baby, you can come whenever you want. Been such a good boy for me.”  
  
  
Harry closes his fist around his cock with a tug and just like that, Louis is spurting through his fingers with a surprised gasp, shaking and whimpering prettily as he finally cums, mind blanking into nothing but bliss.

  
  
Afterwards, Harry carries him to their room and dumps him on the bed, quickly fingering him open. He digs a condom out of the bedside table drawer and slips it on, slicking himself up with lube before he pins Louis to the bed and fucks another orgasm out of him, panting harshly against his throat.  
  
  
Harry makes sure to rub some lotion on Louis’s bum before they fall asleep together, so sated and tired they miss out on dinnertime completely. Later on, they wake up at two a.m. and eat Cup Ramen in their pyjamas, Louis tucked under Harry’s arm, his bum still deliciously sore from being spanked and fucked.   
  
  
He smiles when Harry drops a kiss to the top of his head, “ _I love you_ ,” whispered into his hair.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
Four weeks later, Harry comes home from work one night with a pregnancy test from the drugstore.  
  
  
They take it upstairs to the master bedroom, closing the door for privacy. Louis pees on the stick and then leaves it on the counter next to the bathroom sink, his hands shaking. They sit next to each other on the bed while they wait, not saying anything, both a little anxious.  
  
  
They’ve been using condoms ever since their first time, and Louis doesn’t  _think_  he’s experienced any symptoms so far, so he’s pretty sure the test is going to turn out negative. And so, he tries to smother that little voice in the back of his head that’s whispering,  _there’s still a chance_. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up. And he feels guilty, really. He shouldn’t be sitting here hoping that it will be positive, while Harry sits beside him, thinking that it would be better for them to wait.  
  
  
They both flinch when the timer goes off on Harry’s iPhone, signaling that the test is ready. He shuts it off, then turns to look at Louis, bringing a hand to the small of his back. “Ready, love?”   
  
  
Louis twists his hands in his lap, nervous. “I – could you go get it?”  
  
  
Harry nods, “of course,” and rises up slowly from the bed.   
  
  
He returns a moment later, the test held in his hand, his expression unreadable. Then he holds it out to Louis. “It’s negative, baby,” he says, voice a little sad; breaking the news gently, on behalf of Louis’s sake.  
  
  
“Oh…” Louis whispers, his gaze falling to his lap. He shrugs his shoulders, “...thought so.”  
  
  
Harry sets the test on the bedside table and sits back down next to Louis, wrapping his arms around him. He holds him close against his chest, rubbing soft circles into his back. “Just two more months, love,” he whispers against his ear. “I promise.”  
  
  
  
Louis nods his head and burrows against Harry's chest, holding on extra tight.

   



	10. Rebellion

Louis hits the ‘end call’ button on his iPhone, dropping it onto the bed with a sigh. He’s just spent the last half hour chatting with his mum, only managing to get away after he promised to ring her again sometime next week. He loves the woman, but sometimes all of her checking up on him can get a bit tiring. He doesn’t know how else to assure her that he’s doing just fine, that there’s literally no one in the _world_ that could take better care of him than Harry does.  
  
  
He lies back sideways on the bed with his hands folded over his tummy, smiling to himself without even realising, his thoughts wrapped up in Harry.  
  
  
He’s so in love with him he thinks he might be a bit sick with it.  
  
  
When he hears the shower turn on, Louis hops up from the bed with a yawn, padding across the carpet and into the en-suite. There’s a pile of Harry’s clothes on the floor next to the bathmat, his silhouette distorted behind the fogged-up glass of the shower. Louis steps up and carefully pulls the door open, letting a puff of steam escape as he peeks inside.  
  
  
He’s met with the sight of Harry, in all his naked glory. Long limbs and the subtle cut of muscles, pale skin scattered with several intricate tattoos. He stands underneath the spray, dripping wet and scrubbing a soaped-up flannel across his torso. He looks around when he hears the shower door open.  
  
  
Louis’s hands clutch at the hem of his shirt. “Can I come in?”  
  
  
Harry smiles with a nod, shaking his long hair back off his shoulders.  
  
  
Louis quickly strips and steps inside, while Harry turns on a second showerhead that’s placed beside his own, testing the water against his wrist until it’s perfect. Louis slips underneath it, letting out a tiny shudder as the heat seeps into his skin. Then he squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, lathering up his hair.  
  
  
“Had a good chat?” Harry asks.  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis shrugs, wrinkling his nose. “Just wish she’d stop fussing over me so much.”  
  
  
Harry raises his arm, rinsing away the soapsuds. “We should have her over for dinner, soon.”  
  
  
Louis smirks. “Why? So she can see that you make sure I eat my vegetables?”  
  
  
Harry just nods. “But you know, despite my best efforts, I still can’t get you to eat brussel sprouts.”  
  
  
“That’s because it’s not actually food.”  
  
  
“It’s a type of cabbage,” Harry tells him, as if that should be obvious.  
  
  
“’m not a _rabbit_.”  
  
  
“More of a kitten, I think.”  
  
  
Louis scowls at that and Harry chuckles lightly, tipping his head back to rinse the conditioner from his hair.  
  
  
Louis reaches for one of the many body washes that line the stone shelf of the shower, one that smells fresh like pine. “What time do we have to leave again?” he asks. One of Harry’s business partners is holding a gala for the grand opening of a new hotel suite, tonight.  
  
  
Harry hums. “About an hour or so.”  
  
  
Louis nods, lathering up a flannel. He starts to wash himself, distracted, his gaze focused on Harry. He just can’t help but stare, sometimes. Especially times like this, when he’s stood completely bare and soaking wet. Thin streams of water roll down his chest and arms, following the sharp v-line cut of his pelvis, the happy-trail between his hips. It’s not fair, really.  
  
  
When he’s finished washing himself, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and tucks himself close against his chest, kissing at the water droplets sprinkled there, just because he can. Harry hugs him in return, backing up a few steps to lean against the damp tiles of the shower wall. He spreads his legs, sliding down the wall a bit until he’s level with Louis’s height. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, fingers brushing lightly underneath his jaw. He stares at him for a moment, his eyes hooded and his gaze soft, before pulling Louis in, so close the tips of their noses brush together.  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound once their lips meet, sharing lazy kisses under the drizzle of shower water. He parts his mouth, lets Harry suck on his bottom lip, tiny little nibbles that make Louis’s knees feel wobbly like gelatin. His arms go up around Harry’s neck and he presses in even closer, loving the feeling of skin against skin, slippery and wet. Water splashes across the tiled floor with little pitter-pattering sounds, while steam rises up in clouds.  
  
  
Harry’s hands drift down Louis’s back then, coming to rest on his bum. He grabs a handful of each cheek, squeezing and kneading like he’s claimed it all for himself—and he has. He really has. He shakes his hands a bit, just to feel Louis’s arse jiggle under his palms. And Louis smiles against his lips, feels Harry smiling back.  
  
  
Their breathing starts to quicken and it’s one of the _hottest_ sounds Louis has ever heard; the soft, shuddered little breaths that pass between their lips when they kiss like this. Their cocks are nestled together, quickly growing hard where they’re trapped between their stomachs. Louis’s dick has always been on the small side, but it looks downright tiny up next to Harry’s. He doesn’t mind, though. If anything, their size difference just turns him on even more. He grinds his hips up, shivering as he brushes himself against the thick column of Harry’s cock.  
  
  
Harry changes trajectory then, burying his head in Louis’s neck to nip and suck at his pulse, licking up the water droplets. Meanwhile, he gives his arse another squeeze, cupping the right cheek and pulling it to the side. He spreads him open with one hand and lets the other slip through his crack, trailing down to touch the tip of his forefinger at Louis’s tiny little hole.  
  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Louis squeaks in surprise, his hips stuttering forward.  
  
  
Harry hums against his neck, dragging his fingertip back and forth over the soft, wrinkled skin, warm and wet from the shower water. Louis drops his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, parting his thighs a bit more to give him better access. It’s like every single nerve-ending starts to light up and _tingle_ whenever Harry touches him there, making his prick jolt against his slippery tummy. “ _Mmn_ ,” Louis moans, pushing back into the touch.  
  
  
Harry peppers Louis’s throat with kisses, groaning to himself as he plays with his tight, pink little hole. He holds him close, getting so hard just from hearing Louis keen for it, soft little gasps of surprise that go straight to Harry’s cock. He rubs his fingertips in tiny circles, feels Louis’s rim flutter and clench around nothing, wanting to be filled. And Harry’s hips rut up instinctively, wanting nothing more than to fuck into that very spot. He wants to give him everything.  
  
  
Louis goes pliant in his arms, shivering with how good it feels. “Daddy – _oh_ – are you gonna fuck me?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, slowing his movements. “Can’t, love. We don’t have time.”  
  
  
Louis makes a sad sound, nosing at Harry’s collarbone.  
  
  
“Tonight, yeah?” Harry whispers, pressing a kiss behind his ear.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at the promise. “…Tonight?”  
  
  
“Mhm,” Harry murmurs. He swirls his finger around his rim, dipping just the tip inside, feels him clench around it. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”  
  
  
He starts rubbing at him hard and fast then, and Louis moans in gratitude and grinds back against his finger, wishing it could be _tonight_ , already. He feels naughty like this, having his hole stroked and pet and played with, letting Harry touch him however he wants.  
  
  
He looks down between them at Harry’s big cock, watches it give a small twitch like he’s eager to fuck him right there and now, and Louis whimpers, brushing himself against it. Harry lets out a sharp breath at the feeling and curls his fingers up, fluttering them back and forth so that they’re pulsing hard against his rim. And Louis gasps, rutting his hips until he cries out and cums all over him, limp and shaking.  
  
  
Harry holds him through it, watching him closely before burying his face back in his neck with a groan. “Love making you come,” he whispers, sounding a bit desperate as he gets a hand between them to wrap around his own cock. “All the little sounds you make – you’re fucking gorgeous.”  
  
  
Louis blushes a bit, leaning against him for support as he catches his breath. He scoots to the side and rests his head on Harry’s collarbone, looking down to watch as he jerks off.  
  
  
There’s few things more mesmerizing than seeing Harry’s long fingers wrapped around his own cock. He teases himself, gives a few pulls and tugs, twisting his grip as he comes up. He thumbs at the sensitive bit of skin under the ridge of his cockhead and lets out a low moan, as tiny pearls of precome leak out from his slit. Then he gives himself a little squeeze and pumps his fist, the wet slapping sound echoing obscenely off the tile. Louis watches his bicep flex as he tugs on his cock, the pink tip peeking out from between his fingers.  
  
  
Harry pants against Louis’s hair while he fucks up into his hand, whispering things that would have Louis hard again in an instant if he hadn’t just gotten off, his voice rough and breathing laboured, “…god, I can’t wait to fuck you…gonna fucking _wreck_ you,” Harry gasps out, his hand sliding frantically over his cockhead once he’s close.  
  
  
Louis smiles a little mischievously and hides his face in Harry’s neck, knowing just what to do to push him over the edge, “…please, Daddy.”  
  
  
Sure enough, Harry’s head drops back against the shower wall with a grunt, and then he’s coming over his fingers in short spurts.  
  
  
Louis makes a needy sound at the sight, nuzzling pitifully against Harry’s neck, and Harry pats at his hip. “Later. Promise.”  
  
  
Afterwards, they quickly rinse off again before the water runs cold and then shut off the taps, wrapping themselves up in fluffy towels. Then they separate to their respective closets to start getting dressed and ready for the night.  
  
  
It’s the first time Louis has had to put on formalwear for one of Harry’s work events, and he feels a little silly in it, but at least it fits nicely. He scrubs a towel through his hair and then sculpts it into a feathery fringe, spritzes on some of the cologne Harry bought for him. They’ve been invited to stay overnight at one of the suites there, so he packs a small suitcase with some pyjamas and a change of clothes, his toothbrush and phone charger.  
  
  
Once he’s finished getting ready, he sits on the edge of the bed, watching Harry carry out a last few finishing touches. He parts his hair so that it falls slightly to one side, and fiddles with the cufflinks of his blazer. All dressed up like this, he looks just as devastating as he does dressed down in sweats and a ratted old t-shirt, and Louis is never quite sure how to cope with that.  
  
  
Harry smiles at him as he steps out of the closet, turning out the light. “You look great, love.”  
  
  
Louis smiles back. He doesn’t know exactly what he did to deserve someone who is so nice to him all the time. “You, too.”  
  
  
Harry grabs his keys and wallet from the nightstand. “Ready?”  
  
  
Louis nods and picks up his suitcase, unsurprised when Harry takes it from him and hikes it up over his own shoulder, instead. It isn’t the least bit heavy, but he always does things like that. Louis doesn’t mind at all.  
  
  
Downstairs, Liam and Zayn are already waiting for them, looking sharp and smelling expensive. Louis nudges Zayn with his elbow, and Zayn wrinkles his nose back. They’re running a bit late, so Liam quickly ushers them out the door and into the Range Rover, leaving Harry to lock up the house behind them.  
  
  
It’s an hour-long drive and they spend it chatting back and forth over the quiet hum of the radio, much more comfortable now than they were when they first met. Louis and Zayn sit tucked in the back while Liam reads directions off his navigation app from the passenger seat and Harry drives, settled comfortably against the leather interior, his palm open on the wheel. He catches Louis’s eye in the rearview mirror a few times, giving him a knowing smile, and Louis fondly rolls his eyes and looks away.  
  
  
They finally arrive at a small but rather extravagant hotel suite, every room lit up inside and glowing against the quickly darkening horizon. A large fountain sits centered at the front, gushing streams of water amidst a flower garden lined with neatly-trimmed hedges. They queue up in the valet line, and Harry parks the Range Rover under an awning outside the triple-front doors. He hands over the key and opens the door for Louis, collecting their suitcases. A bellboy arrives with a trolley, but Harry waves him away with a polite smile. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”  
  
  
Their shoes click on the tile once they step inside the marble lobby, the ceilings so high even the smallest of sounds are given echoes. There’s a sitting area to the right, made up of plush chairs and couches arranged around a stone fireplace, the flames crackling merrily inside and giving off a warm glow. Everything feels as ornate and brand new as it looks, freshly polished and untouched.  
  
  
Louis and Zayn hang back a bit while Harry and Liam check in at the front desk, speaking quietly. The desk clerk checks for their names on the V.I.P. list and then passes over their room keys, requesting that they enjoy their stay.  
  
  
Harry gives one of the keys to Louis and he tucks it in his pocket for safekeeping, before following the others into an empty lift. Inside, the walls are painted gold and framed with dark cherry-wood crown molding, still smelling of fresh lacquer. Liam presses the button labeled _11_ and it takes them up to the topmost floor, the penthouse suites. They follow the leftwing, pausing outside two doors near the end of a quiet hallway. Liam and Zayn take room 1108, while Harry and Louis take the room directly across, 1109.  
  
  
It’s cool and clean inside, posh but comfortable. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the walls, looking out over the glittering city. The living room is comprised of a leather couch and some upholstered armchairs, opposite a television that sits atop the entertainment center. There’s a kitchen space with a dining nook off to one side, the table topped with a bottle of complimentary wine and flavoured chocolates. Louis glances around, his mouth slightly open, and follows Harry into the bedroom of the suite.  
  
  
There’s a king-sized bed centered against the wall, circular in shape, the head of it covered with lots of squashy pillows. Louis runs a hand across the duvet, Egyptian cotton smooth under his palm. “Wow,” he whispers, “it’s really nice.”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry nods, looking around the room. “All of the suites are like this. The owner specializes in luxury.”  
  
  
Harry tucks their suitcases into the closet and then slips into the bathroom to quickly freshen up. In the meantime, Louis waits on the bed, suddenly growing nervous. He’s never been around any of Harry’s work friends, before. He can only guess how out of place he’ll feel, not having grown up in this sort of upscale lifestyle. He hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself too much.  
  
  
When Harry comes out of the bathroom he looks contemplative, his brow knitted together. He sits down on the bed beside Louis. “Listen…” he says, “we’re going to be having dinner with the owner of the hotel tonight, Mr. Lyndell.”  
  
  
Louis nods slowly, waiting for him to continue.  
  
  
Harry cards a hand up through his hair, sweeping it back from his face. “The thing is, he has a son – Elijah – and we…well, we didn’t _date_ or anything, but our parents sort of always hoped we would.”  
  
  
“Oh,” Louis says, not entirely sure how he’s supposed to react to that. “Okay.”  
  
  
Harry moves his hand to the small of Louis's back. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just, he’s going to be there tonight, so. I thought I should let you know.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “It’s okay…thanks for telling me.”  
  
  
Harry nods, leaning in to press a kiss to his hair.  
  
  
Louis shifts a bit on the bed. “So you never…did anything?”  
  
  
“Well…we kissed. Once,” Harry tells him. “Our families used to vacation together when we were teenagers. There was one yacht trip where we drank too much and made out, but that was it.”  
  
  
Louis wrinkles his nose at the thought of Harry kissing someone else, but quickly pushes the thought away. After all, that was long before they got together. He has no right to be jealous. He nods his head again, just as they hear someone knocking at the door of their suite. “You guys ready?” Liam calls, his voice muffled behind the door.  
  
  
They quickly stand up from the bed and Louis follows Harry out of the room, meeting up with Zayn and Liam in the hallway. They follow it back to the lift bank and take one down to the main floor, headed towards the rightwing of the hotel, where the ballroom is. A security guard stands outside the double-doors with a clipboard in his hands, letting them pass through after Harry and Liam present their room keys.  
  
  
The ballroom is wide and opulent inside, brightly lit with overhanging chandeliers that give off a pleasant, golden-tinted glow. There’s a bar and lounge area to the left, a dance floor in the center, and the dining area to the far right, comprised of several tables and chairs, already set and ready for dinner. In the corner, a woman sits behind a grand piano, her fingers moving delicately across its many keys. There’s small circles of people scattered everywhere, dressed up and chatting over glasses of pink champagne, strawberries floating at the bottom.  
  
  
“I hate these things, to be honest,” Harry mutters under his breath, and Louis stifles a laugh.  
  
  
They spend the next half-hour mingling in the lounge. Harry introduces Louis to some of his work colleagues and business partners and the dates they’ve brought along with them. They all seem nice enough, at least. Maybe it has something to do with the open bar, or the waiters who appear instantaneously to refill their champagne glasses, rendering them all a bit pink-cheeked and tipsy.  
  
  
At seven o’clock, they’re ushered into the dining room for dinner. There’s arranged seating, and Louis follows a step behind Harry as they scan the different tables for their places, each porcelain plate topped with a single white name-card. He tugs on Harry’s sleeve when he spots them; two cards with _Styles_ written across the front in a neat, cursive scrawl, and beside that, another two cards that read _Payne_.  
  
  
There’s an older man standing beside the table, dominant in nature, with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly-clipped moustache. He smiles as they approach, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand. “Good to see you again, Harry.”  
  
  
“Good to see you, Mr. Lyndell,” Harry says with a grin. “We’ve just seen the penthouse, it’s lovely.”  
  
  
Mr. Lyndell waves his hand dismissively, the gold band on his ring finger glinting in the light. “Glad you liked it. I wanted to try a bit more modern furnishing this time around, you see.”  
  
  
Harry is about to turn to make introductions with Louis then, when someone else comes up from behind Mr. Lyndell.  
  
  
“Harry!”  
  
  
Harry smiles politely, caught off guard. “Oh – hello, Elijah,” and then he’s being pulled into a brief hug.  
  
  
Louis stands back a bit, watching the exchange with reverent interest. So this is him, then. Well, Louis could have easily guessed that, really. The guy is an obvious sub, and the thing is, he sort of _looks_ like Louis. Short with small features, curvy (though not _as_ curvy as Louis is, he proudly notes). He’s taller than Louis, though, with paler skin and darker hair.  
  
  
Harry turns and reaches out for Louis then, making introductions. Louis shakes hands with Mr. Lyndell and then Elijah, repeating the same old “nice to meet you” pleasantries. And then it’s time to take their seats.  
  
  
When a door towards the back corner of the room opens, a slew of waiters files out of the kitchens to refill their drinks and hand out small dinner menus. Harry and Louis both order the prime rib and vegetable medley. And as they settle in, Louis stares down at the table, bewildered. There are four forks arranged on one side of his plate, and on the other side, two spoons and two knives. Glancing around, he notices that all of the plates are set up like that, in exactly the same order, like something out of a movie. Why do rich people need so much silverware?  
  
  
On the other side of the table, Elijah sits directly across, and Louis can’t shake the feeling that he’s _watching_ him, observing him curiously. Then his gaze will trail over to Harry, lingering there for just a moment too long. And Louis resists the urge to climb onto Harry’s lap and nuzzle possessively at the underside of his jaw.  
  
  
The dining room settles into gentle chatter then, the sounds of glasses and silverware clinking together carrying just above the tune of live piano music. Mr. Lyndell sits at the head of the table and leads most of the conversation, keeping the topics focused mainly around his many business ventures and hotel suites and other mundane things that Louis finds himself tuning out of. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now.  
  
  
It’s a relief when the waiters come back with their salads, freshly tossed and topped with toast points drizzled in vinaigrette. Louis quickly digs in, scooping a bit of lettuce and a sliver of finely-shredded Parmesan onto his fork. After a moment, he hears a slight chuckle from across the table, and looks up to find Elijah watching him again, smiling benignly.  
  
  
“Louis, that’s your dinner fork,” he says with a point, “this one here is your salad fork.”  
  
  
Louis pauses, glancing bemusedly between the fork in his hand and the one still sitting beside his plate. They’re nearly identical. He swallows the bit of salad in his mouth. “Erm, what’s the difference?”  
  
  
Elijah just shrugs with a smile before turning back to his own salad, and Louis can’t decide if he’s being condescending or not. It doesn’t matter anyway, because the next thing he knows, Harry is leaning in close to his ear. “You can use whatever fork you want, love,” he whispers. And Louis watches as Harry bypasses his own salad fork in favour of his dinner fork, shooting Louis a cheeky grin before digging in.  
  
  
Louis has lost count of all the ways he loves him, he thinks.  
  
  
By the time they’re halfway through the main course, most of the people at the table have become quite drunk, indulging themselves with endless refills of champagne and Cabernet Sauvignon. Harry has only had a few sips, while Louis stuck to lemon water. Mr. Lyndell, on the other hand, switched to bourbon at some point, making his voice progressively louder and his cheeks more and more ruddy. The guests at the table join in and laugh, listening as he recounts a story of some trip he took to France with his family last year.  
  
  
“Ah, that was a good summer,” Mr. Lyndell says then, his voice slurred around the edges. He dabs at the corner of his lips with a napkin. “My Elijah’s always been a troublemaker.”  
  
  
Elijah raises his brow at that, swirling the champagne around in his glass. “Now, now, father. You know that’s not true. I was always on my best behaviour growing up.” His eyes move over to Harry then, glinting mischievously, “…except for that time on the yacht, eh, Harry?”  
  
  
Louis tenses, his ears pricking up at the word ‘yacht.’ He doesn’t hear Harry’s reply, as the table erupts in raucous laughter once again, drowning him out. Louis feels his cheeks heat and keeps his gaze focused on the baked potato on his plate, trying to ignore the twinge of annoyance that’s thrumming through him. He wishes this dinner would hurry up and end, already. He doesn’t want to be around Elijah anymore, doesn’t like the way he keeps _looking_ at Harry.  
  
  
In an instant, Harry’s hand slides over to settle on Louis’s thigh under the table. He rubs his thumb in soothing circles just below his knee, as if he can sense his discomfort. Louis can feel Harry watching him, throwing him concerned glances every few minutes in between conversations with the other guests, but Louis ignores them all. He doesn’t know how to feel, right now.  
  
  
When the dinner finally comes to an end, they drop their napkins onto their plates and stand up from the table, the guests still chattering away. Louis stands back a bit, waiting for Harry to finish talking with an elderly woman whose frail body is draped in diamonds and several shawls. He looks a bit uncomfortable, like he’s anxious to cut the conversation short but doesn’t want to be rude. So Louis hangs back and waits, his arms folded in front of his chest.  
  
  
After the woman eventually bids Harry goodbye, he turns back to Louis, looking worried. He places a hand at the small of his back, leaning down to whisper in his ear above the noise.  
  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods. “I’m fine.”  
  
  
Harry looks like he doesn’t believe him. “I’m sorry…I wasn’t expecting him to say something like that.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, staring resolutely at the sleeve of his own blazer. “…he sure made it sound like you did more than just kiss.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, looking sad. “Louis, I swear, that’s all it was.”  
  
  
Louis looks up to meet his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity there. He unfolds his arms, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry’s shoulders sag with relief. He tips his chin to kiss him then, his hands settled on Louis’s waist. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis can see Elijah still standing just a few feet away and he presses in even closer to Harry, letting himself be kissed.  
  
  
“I love you,” Harry murmurs against his lips, “I’m sorry he made you feel uncomfortable.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, tucking himself securely under Harry’s arm. They stand together for a moment, Harry rubbing small circles against his back, until they hear his name being called from across the room.  
  
  
They look around to see Mr. Lyndell, Elijah, and a few of the other party guests crowded around the bar. Mr. Lyndell hoists a glittering bottle of champagne into the air with one hand, beckoning towards them with the other. “Toast time, Styles!”  
  
  
Harry sighs and looks down at Louis, patting his hip. “I’d better join them. D’you wanna come?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “You go ahead, I’m gonna go find Zayn.”  
  
  
Harry studies him carefully for a moment, looking uncertain, “…you sure you don’t mind?”  
  
  
Louis nods, giving Harry a little nudge. “I’ll be fine, go on.”  
  
  
So Harry drops a kiss to his hair, before plastering on a smile and turning away.  
  
  
Alone now, Louis scans the room for Zayn. It doesn’t take long to find him, perched on Liam’s lap in the lounge, and feeding him a chocolate-covered strawberry (honestly). It looks as if they don’t want to be bothered, so Louis keeps his distance. He turns his eyes back towards the bar, easily spotting Harry through the crowd. From the looks of it, he’s been roped into yet another conversation with Mr. Lyndell, Elijah quickly stepping up to join in.  
  
  
Louis sort of wants to teleport across the room to Harry’s side, tuck himself under his arm and establish, yet again, that _Harry has already claimed him thank you very much_ , but he comes up with a better idea.  
  
  
The thing is, he’s feeling rather…rebellious.  
  
  
And with that feeling in mind, Louis disappears into the crowd and slowly edges towards the back of the room, careful to remain undetected, before slipping out of the double-doors.  
  
  
Determined, he makes his way back to the marble lobby. It’s practically deserted now, the party still going in full swing just down the hall. He quickly crosses to the lift bank, the doors sliding open as soon as he jams his finger against the button. He slips inside, watches the golden arrow above the doors tick off numbers like a clock as the lift rises to the eleventh floor.  
  
  
It’s so quiet in the hallway Louis’s own footsteps are loud in his ear, treading on patterned carpet. He must be the only person on the entire floor. When he gets to room 1109, he digs the keycard from his pocket and slides it through the lock until the light turns green, granting him access to the penthouse suite. It’s silent and still inside as he steps in and closes the door behind him, completely alone.  
  
  
He makes a beeline for the master bedroom.  
  
  
He finds it just the way he left it, practically untouched and cooled from the air conditioning. Goosebumps sprout up across Louis’s skin as he quickly strips out of his clothes, tossing them unceremoniously onto an armchair in the corner. Then, he pulls open the closet doors, kneeling down beside Harry’s suitcase. He pauses with his hand on the zipper, biting his lip. He feels guilty going through Harry’s things without his permission but…it’s only the _side-pocket_ , Louis rations. The place where he keeps his toiletries; shampoo, conditioner, his toothbrush, cologne, and—of course, _lube_.  
  
  
Louis snatches the bottle up with nervous hands, zipping the side-pocket closed again. He climbs onto the bed, propping himself up against the pillows before fumbling with the cap. He has to be quick about this. He doesn’t know how much time he has. Carefully, he drizzles some lube onto the fingers of his right hand, rubbing them together to warm it up, just like Harry always does.  
  
  
He’s never done this to himself, before.  
  
  
With a deep breath, he parts his thighs and dips his hand down below his balls, guiding his fingertips to his rim. He swirls them around, spreading the lube, _touching_.  
  
  
He isn’t supposed to touch.  
  
  
But there’s something inside of him that wants to be bad, wants to break the rules. Anything to have Harry’s attention all to himself again, to make him forget about everything except making Louis his, making sure Louis _remembers_.  
  
  
He’s so nervous he’s barely getting hard, so he closes his eyes, imagines that it’s Harry instead. Harry’s finger, Harry’s tongue. It circles around, touches and teases, before dipping inside.  
  
  
Louis wraps his other hand around his cock, coaxing it into hardness, sliding his fingers along the delicate skin. It’s been a while since he’s felt himself like this, fattening up against his palm. He shifts around on the bed, moving his arm to a more comfortable angle. And then he presses his finger further past his rim, feeling himself clench around it. Feeling what Harry feels. He crooks it up, looking, searching.  
  
  
It isn’t the same. Harry’s fingers are longer, thicker. They know his body so well, have all of his weak spots figured out, know just where to touch to make him shiver and cry and come undone. And even better than his fingers…his stupidly perfect _cock_.  
  
  
Louis whines at the thought of it, pushing his finger deeper inside. It’s nothing compared to the real thing, Harry thick and hard and pressed up against that spot that makes his body go limp. It seems like ever since that first night, that’s all Louis ever wants, is to be fucked. Only by Harry, though. Harry, who he loves more than anything, pinning him down with gentle hands and fucking him hard.  
  
  
Louis’s cock starts to throb so he gives himself a little squeeze, moaning when precome dribbles out, getting his fingers wet. He thinks of how it looks when Harry does this, the way that vein in his forearm bulges obscenely as he pumps his fist over his cock, groaning into Louis’s hair the whole time. Telling him how hard he is for him. Telling him what a good boy he is…

  
He wishes Harry was here, now. He wants his touches and soft praises, the kisses pressed behind his ear and the murmurs against his neck, his mouth and his hands and every last bit of his attention, Louis wants it all. He wants _Daddy_. He whispers the word into thin air, hand still sliding desperately along his prick.  
  
  
  
_Bzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzz.  
  
  
_ Louis freezes, his eyes flying open. His head snaps up and to the left, where his iPhone sits on the nightstand. The screen is lit up, vibrating against the polished wood. Someone’s calling.  
  
  
With a whimper, Louis takes his hand off his dick and scrambles to answer the phone. He doesn’t check to see who’s calling first. He already knows.  
  
  
Immediately, Harry’s voice comes through the line, sounding a bit panicked. “Louis? Baby, where are you?”  
  
  
Louis feels guilty for making Harry worry, but then he twists the finger inside himself and remembers there are probably more important things to feel guilty about right now. He makes a sad sound into the phone, and then, “Harry…”  
  
  
“Are you—”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis cuts him off, crooking his finger in search of his spot. He doesn’t find it, finishes off with a noise that’s half pleasure, half frustration, hoping Harry will get the hint.  
  
  
Harry doesn’t say anything at all.  
  
  
Louis's skin prickles anxiously. On the other end of the phone, he can hear noises from the party, voices and laughter and glasses clinking together, steadily growing distant until they fade out completely. He imagines Harry cutting through the crowd, leaving it all behind as he makes his way to the door, his back straight and stiff, phone pressed tight to his ear.  
  
  
“Louis…” he finally says, his voice deceptively calm, sharpened in a way that makes Louis shiver. “What exactly are you doing?”  
  
  
Louis winces and clears his throat. “Uhm, I went back to the suite. ‘m in bed, and…” he bites his lip, glancing down to where his hand is still tucked between his legs. “…I touched.”  
  
  
Louis listens to Harry’s sharp inhale, pictures him standing in the dark of some secluded hallway, holed up against the wall where no one can overhear. “…You touched your cock?”  
  
  
“Well…yes. But,” Louis stammers, “I…I’m using my fingers, too.”  
  
  
He’s met with a prolonged silence, and there’s two things happening now: shame and excitement.  
  
  
It feels like ages until Harry speaks again, his voice that same, measured calm, a hard edge lingering underneath. “…Did you come?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, then remembers Harry can’t actually see him. “No,” he whispers. “Can’t – need you—”  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry says. “Listen to me.”  
  
  
Louis stops, listens. Waits.  
  
  
Harry speaks again, slowly rattling off a short list of instructions. “Take your fingers out of your arse. Leave your hands flat on the bed. Don’t touch yourself again. Do _not_ come.”  
  
  
Louis feels his cock twitch at the dominant tone of Harry’s voice, feels the instinctive need to _submit_. God, he really wishes Harry were here right now, on this bed, in this room. He wants to be with him, needs to be closer. Needs to be _good_. There’s only eleven floors separating them, but it feels like so much more, somehow. “I – are you coming back to the room now?”  
  
  
The line goes dead.  
  
  
With a frown, Louis drops his phone back onto the nightstand and then places his hands on the bed on either side of his thighs, just as he was told. His prick is still stiff and poking up towards his tummy, sitting in a little wet spot where he leaked. He glances down at it despondently and then looks up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to touch.  
  
  
And he waits.  
  
  
  
It’s so fucking quiet in the penthouse. Everything is still and unfamiliar. Louis can hear the hum of the air conditioning unit, the rumble of the icebox. He has no idea how long he sits there like that, cock hard and hands flat against the sheets. He wonders what Harry has planned.  
  
  
Will he punish Louis? Spank him, maybe? Louis’s face heats up at the thought…he thinks Harry has probably figured out by now that he _likes_ getting spanked too much for it to be a suitable punishment. So maybe he’ll just leave him like this, not let him come.  
  
  
Louis really hopes not.  
  
  
He doesn’t know how much time has gone by before he finally hears the telltale sound of a keycard sliding through the lock. He listens to each individual sound, the creak of the door, the click of the lock, and Harry’s footsteps, slowly crossing the floor on his way to the master bedroom of the suite. Louis practically starts shaking he’s so excited and anxious and…fucking _turned on_.  
  
  
When Harry comes into the room, he doesn’t look at Louis. He carries on as if he were completely alone; hangs his blazer up in the closet like there’s no one watching, steps out of his shoes like there’s no one else in the room. As if Louis isn’t sitting there naked on the bed, lube smeared between his thighs and a stiff dick, guilty as can be. But Harry’s movements are slow, calculated, like he has all the time in the world to waste. And Louis _knows_ what he’s doing. He’s making him wait for it, for any attention.  
  
  
It makes the dull ache in his cock even worse.  
  
  
Harry slips into the bathroom then, and Louis hears the tap turn on, splashes of water in the sink. He comes back shortly after, fingers working at the buttons of his top, one by one. He strips out of his clothes, neatly folding each and every article, until he’s left in nothing but his white briefs. His bulge sits heavy at the front, the shape of his cock outlined through the cotton. Louis’s eyes fall to it, biting his lip. Christ, he really, _really_ hopes Harry will be merciful and fuck him.  
  
  
With an air of casualty, Harry rolls his shoulders back and sits down on the edge of the bed. And then, _finally_ , he looks at Louis. He raises his hand, taps his fingers against Louis’s knees, where he’s pressed them together to cover himself.  
  
  
“Let’s see, then.”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly and parts his thighs, his face positively flaming as Harry looks him over, at all the places he touched. His cock still hard against his belly, his hole pink and wet with lube. Harry stares, keeping his expression indifferent, though Louis is sure he sees his pupils dilate. He makes a sound of disapproval, and Louis thinks he’d do anything to be good, again.  
  
  
When Harry speaks, there’s still that same collected calm in his voice. “Was gonna give you anything you wanted, tonight,” he tells him. “Thought I might eat you out for a while, rim your arse ‘til you’re begging to be fucked. Wouldn’t leave the bed until I made you come as many times as you wanted.” He traces his finger around Louis’s ankle, and Louis fidgets.  
  
  
Harry continues, “…should just leave you like this. Let you watch as I get myself off and then go to sleep. Leave you hard and empty.”  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip, fights the urge to shake his head in protest.  
  
  
“…But,” Harry says then, his voice softening. “I think I know why you did this…and I feel responsible.”  
  
  
Louis stares back at him, without words. Harry just…he _knows_ him so well.  
  
  
“So,” Harry finishes, “I’m gonna let you come on my cock, since I know that’s what you really want. But seeing as you’ve already decided to take matters into your own hands,” his gaze drifts pointedly back down to his lube-smeared hole, and Louis shifts awkwardly, “…you’re gonna have to work for it.”  
  
  
Louis’s brow furrows, bewildered. “Wh – what do you mean?”  
  
  
Harry smiles, gently. “You’ll see,” he murmurs, reaching for the lube. He pops open the cap, pouring some out onto his fingers. “Gotta make sure you’re ready, first.”  
  
  
Harry kneels beside him on the bed, then. He brings his fingertips to Louis’s rim, slipping one inside with ease. And Louis’s back arches up from the mattress – Harry’s fingers are _so_ much better than his own. He takes his time, stretching and coaxing, before he nudges a second one inside, scissoring them apart.  
  
  
Louis’s hands clench in the sheets and he takes a deep breath, relaxing his muscles. He looks up at Harry, still feeling guilty, “...sorry, Daddy,” he says, barely a whisper.  
  
  
Harry looks down at him, his gaze soft. He reaches out a hand to brush Louis’s fringe back from his eyes, and Louis practically glows at the affection.  
  
  
“You have a good time?” Harry murmurs then, his tone curious rather than accusatory. “Touching yourself?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “Erm…it was okay.”  
  
  
Harry’s brow arches. “Just okay?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, glancing down to where Harry’s long fingers are pressing into him, “…yours are better.”  
  
  
Harry smiles at that. “Yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods.  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “What’d you think about?”  
  
  
Louis chews at his lip. He’s not as comfortable with…well, with _dirty talk_ the way Harry is, but Harry always helps him, eases him into the conversation with questions so he’s not so embarrassed. “Just…you.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry slowly works a third finger inside, moving closer towards his spot. “What about me?”  
  
  
Louis exhales, relaxing against the stretch. “Was thinking about…when we were in the shower earlier,” Louis whispers, his eyes clenched shut and his voice very, very small, “and…well, your cock.”  
  
  
Harry leans down to kiss him then, nudging his hips forward so Louis can feel how hard he is. “Is that what you want?”  
  
  
Louis nods, makes a slightly desperate sound against his mouth.  
  
  
Harry buries his face in his neck then, nosing at his throat. “You sure you deserve it? You weren’t a very good boy, you know.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “I’ll be good,” he whispers hopefully.  
  
  
Harry presses a kiss behind his ear, “I know you will, baby.” He crooks his fingers up then, brushing over Louis’s prostate at last.  
  
  
Louis’s body gives a jolt at the touch, his leg kicking out. “ _Shit_ ,” he groans.  
  
  
Harry smiles against his neck. “You ready?”  
  
  
When Louis nods, Harry slowly eases his fingers out. He straightens up and peels out of his briefs, his cock bobbing between his thighs, long and full. He goes to the closet and digs through his suitcase, coming back a moment later with a condom in his hand. Louis watches as he pinches the tip and carefully rolls it on. Then he reaches for the lube, pouring some out into his palm before he slicks himself up.  
  
  
Louis fidgets a bit, impatient and unsure what’s next. “Erm…Harry?”  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry says then, squeezing himself at the base, “how do you feel about riding me?”  
  
  
Louis gapes at him…they’ve never done _that_ , before. Harry is always the one to take charge of things in bed, pinning Louis down and maneuvering him any way he wants. And Louis _likes_ that, really. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but he likes knowing Harry will take care of everything, likes having all of his control taken away, so he can just lay back and _feel_. But, Harry said he would have to work for it tonight. So this must be what he meant.  
  
  
Louis looks down at his lap, “well…I might not be very good at it,” he admits, embarrassed. “Don’t really know how.”  
  
  
Harry shrugs, his hand still sliding gently along his dick. “That’s okay. I’ll help you, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his hands folded in his lap, watching as Harry climbs onto the bed beside him. He settles back against the pillows that are arranged along the bedframe, making himself comfortable with his legs stretched out in front of him, his cock curving up from between his hips. He gives Louis a reassuring smile, reaching out for him with his hand.  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath and sits up on his knees, scooting closer. He straddles Harry’s lap, kneeling over him with one knee planted on either side of his torso. Harry holds his cock around the base with one hand, guiding Louis with the other, until he’s in the right position. “Okay…lower yourself down a bit,” he murmurs.  
  
  
Louis spreads his knees further apart, until he feels Harry beneath him, hard and nudging against his rim. He pushes down further and holds himself open with both hands, lets Harry slide just the tip inside with a few shallow pumps of his hips. It slips in with a slight _pop_ and Harry bites back a groan, moving his hands up to rub at Louis’s hips. “There…now just keep pushing down whenever you’re ready, okay? Don’t rush. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  
  
  
Louis nods, taking a moment to adjust to the stretch. Everything feels a bit different from this angle. He swivels his hips, wiggling around on the tip of Harry’s cock. And Harry bites down hard on his lip, like he’s struggling to stay still. “ _God, baby_ ,” he breathes, hands clenching around Louis’s hips.  
  
  
Once he’s ready, Louis lowers himself down some more, slowly inching Harry’s cock further inside. Harry lets out a shuddered breath at the feeling. “There you go, love, just sink down on it,” he murmurs gently, petting at Louis’s waist, “let me feel how tight you are for me.”  
  
  
Louis flushes, overwhelmed by Harry’s words and the way he’s looking up at him, pupils blown, watching Louis’s every movement with rapt attention, like he’s the most mesmerizing thing in the world, and _fuck_ , this is exactly what Louis spent this entire evening craving – having Harry’s attention all to himself again. To have Harry want him so much he can feel it in his pulse.  
  
  
He moves his hips in little circles, getting a feel for the angle as he sinks down some more. He lifts up experimentally and then drops back down, listening to the way it makes Harry’s breath hitch in his throat. He tries again, placing his hands on Harry’s stomach for leverage this time as he lifts himself up and down on his cock, again and again.  
  
  
Harry’s mouth falls open a bit, a look of complete bliss coming over his face. “Yeah, perfect, baby,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering closed as Louis works himself on his cock. “Just like that – _fuck_.”  
  
  
Encouraged, Louis speeds up, letting out a soft moan once he’s found a good angle. He rocks his hips up and down, practically _bouncing_ on Harry’s cock, his arse slapping wetly against the skin of his thighs. He feels Harry’s abdomen twitching under his palms, feels his hips give an involuntary jolt each time he sinks down, like it’s taking everything he has not to fuck up into him, leaving Louis to do the work. So Louis parts his knees some more, takes him deeper, feels Harry’s cockhead brush _dangerously_ close to his spot. Louis whines, shifts his hips, desperate for it.  
  
  
He looks up to see Harry sitting back against the pillows, long hair sprawled around his shoulders. He’s breathing hard, his chest flushed, lips parted as he watches Louis, muttering curses each time he fucks himself down on his cock. And Louis never wants anyone else to have Harry like this, ever. He remembers the way Elijah looked at Harry at dinner and that possessive streak from earlier courses straight through him once again.  
  
  
He speeds up again, panting a bit. He plants his hands on Harry’s chest, giving him a hard look. “You’re _my_ daddy,” he whispers with a pout, bouncing fast. “Mine. Nobody else’s.”  
  
  
Harry just smiles. “That’s right, love. All yours.” He wiggles his hips, jostling Louis around on his cock for a split second before he stops, and Louis whines for more. “Nobody else gets to ride Daddy's cock like this, hm?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and grinds down hard and fast, and it’s the most frustrating thing in the world – feeling so fucking close to his spot, but he can never quite get it right. He’s panting hard now, flushed pink all over, his fringe sticking to his forehead as he frantically ruts his hips, needing to come so bad. But riding is hard work, and he’s growing tired.  
  
  
Harry pets at his hips. “Wish you could see yourself,” he murmurs. “Sat up all nice and pretty on my cock.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers sadly, his thighs starting to quiver and burn from exertion. He just wants to be _fucked_. He bounces faster, shifts the angle – _almost there._  
  
  
Harry groans, the tendons popping out in his neck a bit as his head drops back against the pillows. “ _Christ_ , you feel so fuckin’ good.”  
  
  
Louis can’t keep up the pace. He starts to slow down, out of breath, his muscles aching. Exhausted, he rocks forward again, whines in frustration when he just _barely_ grazes his prostate. It’s not enough. He whimpers again, sounding so pitiful but he doesn’t care. “Daddy…please.”  
  
  
Harry reaches out a hand to cup his cheek, brushing the hair back from his eyes. “What is it, love?”  
  
  
And Louis understands then…Harry wants him to _ask_ for it. Louis’s chest heaves, panting from exertion and desperately rutting his hips, too far gone to feel shy or embarrassed anymore. “Want you to fuck me,” he gasps out, “please? Fuck me, Daddy.”  
  
  
And just like that, Harry plants his feet flat on the bed and rocks his hips up into Louis, _finally_ nailing his prostate dead-on. Louis practically sobs in relief, collapsing weakly against Harry’s chest. “ _Oh!_ Oh - there, _there_ – please – please,” he mutters senselessly.  
  
  
Harry kisses the top of his head, hiding a smirk in his hair. “Is that better, baby?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his little hand clutching uselessly at Harry’s bicep as he grinds his cockhead into his sweet spot. “Please don’t stop – please.”  
  
  
“Not gonna stop,” Harry assures him, rubbing at the small of his back. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you come, Louis.”  
  
  
Louis moans in gratitude and clings to Harry, his arms wrapped around his middle and his face tucked in his neck, lying limp across chest. Their skin is hot where they’re pressed together, slick with sweat, and it’s heaven. It’s absolute fucking heaven.  
  
  
Harry moves his hands back to his hips, holding him still as he pumps his cock into him. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, exhaling shakily. “How do you stay so _tight_ , baby?”  
  
  
Louis just whimpers against his neck, so happy when Harry praises him. He looks down to where his cock is trapped between them, the tip of it tapping against the butterfly tattoo on Harry’s chest. Louis wants to come on it. His limp little body is being jostled around on Harry’s cock and he feels every one of his nerves electrify, feels Harry nestled so, _so_ deep inside him, brushing up against all the right places. “So good, Daddy,” he whispers, maybe slurring a bit.  
  
  
Harry kisses the top of his head, "is this how you wanted to be fucked, baby?"  
  
  
Louis nods, digging his nails into the skin of Harry's back.  
  
  
Harry speeds up then, fucking him hard and fast, making these soft little moans of approval that make Louis’s skin glow. The mattress creaks and the headboard is tapping against the wall and they’re both panting and Harry’s balls are slapping up against Louis’s arse and it’s so fucking good. Harry’s hips are pistoning up from the bed and Louis cries out each time he pounds into him, the blunt head of his cock knocking _right into his spot_.  
  
  
“Oh, _oh_ ,” Louis cries, “oh – _Daddy_ – f-fuck.”  
  
  
Harry pulls him down hard on his cock and keeps him there, pressed right up against his prostate as he slips a hand around his cock, giving him a few gentle pulls. “Go ahead and come, baby. Know you want to. You’re gonna feel _so_ good. Gonna come so much.”  
  
  
Louis whines, circling his hips just to grind into that spot, seconds from an orgasm.  
  
  
“Shh,” Harry whispers, kissing his forehead as he strokes his little prick. “Let me see you come, baby, please. Always so pretty when you come for me.”  
  
  
Louis’s mind blanks, a final shuddered cry leaving his lips, and then there’s cum spurting over Harry’s fingers, splattering against the butterfly, and he feels Harry coming, too, just from watching Louis and pumping his cock into him one last time. And…fuck.  
  
  
He’s so drowsy and sated and fucked out, but Harry holds him, kissing his sweaty forehead and whispering how good he was, how nice he made him feel. Then he gently lays Louis down and gets up to throw out the condom, fetch a warm flannel from the en-suite. He cleans them both up as best as he can and then collapses onto the bed, pulling the covers up.  
  
  
Louis reaches out for him, half-asleep. “Daddy?"  
  
  
“’m here, love,” Harry murmurs back, tucking an arm around Louis’s waist to pull him back against his chest.  
  
  
  
Louis is already fast asleep by the time Harry presses one last kiss behind his ear.

  
  
  
 


	11. Safe and Sound

It would be impossible to replicate the downstairs’ study.  
  
  
It’s easily Louis’s favourite room in the house, other than the bedroom he shares with Harry, of course. There’s so many treasures held inside; an old record player from the 1970’s, travel souvenirs stretching from Bali to Amsterdam, a vintage film projector, a vinyl of The Rolling Stones’ _Black and Blue_ album personally signed by Ronnie and Mick, and lots and lots of extravagant artwork, held in frames all across the walls. The study is like a small, one-room museum, housing most of the valuables Harry has collected over his lifetime. And Louis loves it.  
  
  
His favourite thing, however, is the grand piano that sits in the middle of the floor, the one Harry inherited from his grandmother. He had it re-tuned years ago but never found much use for it. No one in the house knew how to play the piano, until Louis moved in.  
  
  
They’re sat together now, on the cushioned bench behind the keyboard; Louis perched on Harry’s thigh, Harry’s chin hooked over his shoulder. Harry loves watching Louis play, the way his thin wrists and delicate fingers travel effortlessly across the ivory keys, filling the room with Coldplay’s _The Scientist_. Louis hums along, quietly under his breath, and Harry hides a smile against his neck.  
  
  
“When did you learn to play?” he whispers, breath warm on Louis’s skin.  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “First started back at primary school. We had to pick an elective, and I chose music,” he thinks about it, shrugs again. “From there, there were lots of different instruments. But I just liked the piano. Think it sounds the prettiest.”  
  
  
Harry nods, watching each and every intricate movement of Louis’s fingers. “Wish I would have learned how to play something.”  
  
  
Louis wrinkles his nose. “Your voice alone is an instrument.”  
  
  
Harry chuckles. “You’ve got a good voice too, y’know.”  
  
  
Louis resists the urge to shake his head. His voice is – it’s _alright_ , but it’s nothing compared to Harry’s. When Harry sings, it’s deep and raspy, all syrupy-slow and warm like a bath, you can feel it sink into your skin. There’s nothing else quite like it.  
  
  
“You’ve never heard me sing,” Louis whispers back, self-conscious.  
  
  
Harry shrugs. “I can just tell, though. I can hear it when you hum.”  
  
  
Louis flushes a bit. He hadn’t even realised he was humming. It’s just a habit.  
  
  
Harry smiles and gently bites Louis’s shoulder. “I’ll get you to sing for me. Someday.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t say anything else.  
  
  
It falls quiet again, save for the tune of the piano that fills up the room, understated and easy, drifting through the walls. He’s practiced these songs so many times that he doesn’t have to concentrate anymore. It’s all second nature, now. His fingers practically move of their own accord, as if he were sleepwalking.  
  
  
Louis’s mind tends to wander when he plays like this.  
  
  
Naturally, he ends up thinking about it again – a certain _thing_ that’s been weighing on his mind lately. Something he’s rather curious about. Something he wants to _try_.  
  
  
He’s embarrassed to ask, but he finds it easier to voice the things he wants outloud when he doesn’t have to look at Harry. So, with his back against Harry’s chest, he seizes the opportunity. Now’s his chance. When the song ends, he slows his fingers to a halt, lets the last few notes hang in the air before fading away. And then he clears his throat.  
  
  
“…Harry?”  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry mumbles absently, his face still buried in Louis’s shoulder.  
  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs easily against him. “Sure.”  
  
  
Louis feels his mouth go dry. He instantly loses his nerve, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Nevermind.”  
  
  
Harry doesn’t let it slide, though. As always, he can sense Louis’s uneasiness right away, all of the nerves that make him turn inward, anxious and quiet. He tightens his arms around him, rubbing a soothing hand against his belly. “It’s just me, love,” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, steeling himself, trying to arrange the words in his head. “Just – d’you think we could maybe, like…try something?”  
  
  
Harry noses at his shirt collar, where Louis’s skin is warm and sweet-smelling underneath. “Hm? Like what?”  
  
  
Louis suddenly wishes he hadn’t stopped playing the piano. It’s way too quiet in this room. As small as he makes his voice, it’s still magnified, somehow. He chews at his lip, shuts his eyes tight even though Harry can’t see them. And then he whispers, so very quietly.  
  
  
  
He knows Harry heard him when he feels him still against him, his hands clenched around his hips.  
  
  
  
“… _Subspace?_ ” Harry breathes against his ear, taken aback.  
  
  
Louis swallows audibly and nods his head.  
  
  
Harry scrambles to turn him around on his lap, maneuvering Louis until he’s facing him, held in the small space between the piano’s edge and Harry’s chest. There’s no escaping his gaze, now.  
  
  
“You really want to?” Harry whispers, smoothing his hands up Louis’s thighs. He doesn’t even bother to hide the excitement in his expression but Louis still fidgets, looking down.  
  
  
“Yeah, I’m – I mean…only if you want to.”  
  
  
“’Course, yeah. _God_ ,” Harry nods, wetting his lips and giving Louis’s thighs a squeeze. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it, too,” he admits, smiling a little sheepishly. “Just wasn’t sure when to bring it up.”  
  
  
When Louis looks back up at him, he thinks he can see something close to hunger in Harry’s eyes. He bites his lip, shifting a bit on his lap.  
  
  
Harry pushes a hand up through his hair then, tucking it back from his face. “’m a bit nervous, to be honest.”  
  
  
Louis scoffs. “ _I’m_ the nervous one. You…you never get nervous.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, leaning in to peck his lips. “Not true. ‘m always a little nervous.”  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow, giving him a skeptical look. “Of what?”  
  
  
Harry stares down at where Louis sits on his lap, looking contemplative. “That I’ll fuck up somehow? Push you too far. Or,” he pauses, shrugging feebly, “…that you could say yes to something, just because I suggested it? Even if it’s not something you’re totally comfortable with.”  
  
  
Louis frowns, shaking his head. “That’s never happened. I – you check on me all the time. Always.”  
  
  
Harry exhales heavily, his head tipping back to look up at the ceiling. “This is different, though. If I put you under you’ll be…so much more vulnerable. I mean…shit, Louis, if I’m not careful you could _subdrop_.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head again. “You wouldn’t let that happen. I know you wouldn’t.” He leans forward, pressing a tiny kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Nobody takes care of me like you do.”  
  
  
Harry closes his eyes and drops his forehead against Louis’s, his brow furrowed a bit. “I’ve made that my priority, you know,” he whispers. His voice is soft, small. “Making sure you’re happy, and satisfied, but also _safe_.”  
  
  
“You do,” Louis whispers back. “You’ve never taken me anywhere I didn’t want to go.” He reaches up to stroke his fingers through Harry’s long hair, soothing. Usually Harry is the one who comforts and soothes, but sometimes, in rare moments like this, the tables turn. And Louis doesn’t mind one bit.  
  
  
Harry pulls back, just enough to meet Louis’s eyes. He tightens his hold on his hips. “Wanna give you everything,” he whispers, sounding slightly desperate, his lips catching wetly on the corner of Louis’s mouth. “I would do anything to keep you.”  
  
  
Louis feels a flurry of butterflies swarming his stomach and then Harry is kissing him, his lips warm and full and the softest thing Louis has ever known. He tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and gives a little tug, making Harry groan low in his throat and kiss him harder, pushing him back against the piano until the keys clank together, loud and jarring.  
  
  
With an arm around his back, Harry pulls Louis closer, hauling him forward until he’s straddling Harry’s lap. Louis shivers when he feels Harry growing hard beneath him, eager to fuck. He grinds his arse down onto his lap with a moan, breaking the kiss. “Now? Could we try it now?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, dipping down to have a go at Louis’s neck. “Monday.”  
  
  
“…Monday?” Louis whispers, his eyes rolling back a bit when Harry starts nibbling at his ear.  
  
  
“Mhm,” Harry murmurs.  
  
  
Louis whines. “But – that’s _three days_ away.”  
  
  
Harry pulls back then, quirking his brow skeptically, his lips still puffy and wet. “Does this mean you’ve grown bored with me fucking you?”  
  
  
Louis gasps and then puts on a pout, moving his hand to the massive bulge in Harry’s trousers, “’course not, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry’s eyes darken considerably. “Hmm…think I should take you to bed now just to make sure. Think you’d like that?”  
  
  
Louis nods, wrapping his legs submissively around Harry’s waist.  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry prompts. “Tell me.”  
  
  
Louis buries his face in his neck. “…Like it when you fuck me, Daddy,” he whispers, shy against his throat.

  
  
In an instant, Harry is on his feet, kicking the stool out of the way as he hurries towards the door, Louis still held in his arms. He carries him down the hall and up the stairs, just a little clumsily, with Louis’s legs locked tight around his waist and his face hidden in Harry’s neck, sucking greedily at his throat. They’ve barely made it to the bedroom before Harry starts to tug at the zip of Louis’s jeans, ridding him of his shirt.  
  
  
He has him pinned to the bed in two seconds flat, the door clicking shut behind them.  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
So Harry comes up with a plan.  
  
  
He lays it all out for Louis, thoroughly going over each and every detail until they’ve exhausted the subject. And then they talk about it some more, double-checking for any Red Zones that might come up, and making sure Louis understands everything this will entail. Making sure he’s comfortable with it all.  
  
  
And the plan is simple, really: on Monday, Harry will keep Louis on the edge of orgasm for hours, even while he’s away at work, and then he’ll edge him some more when he gets back home and finally, overstimulate him until he’s put him under, into subspace.  
  
  
The first part of the plan kicks off on Friday. Harry suggests that they refrain from having any real sex for the next three days, in order to heighten the anticipation, make it all the more intense, make Louis _wait_ for it even longer. Louis agrees, of course, but he’s surprised by how much self-control it takes to follow through with the arrangement, on both their parts. It’s not that he’s gotten used to Harry fucking him every night or anything but…well, okay, he sort of _has_. These days, it’s rare that Louis will fall asleep without, at the very least, Harry fingering him to a nice, messy orgasm, first.  
  
  
But, a deal’s a deal. And so, they spend the next three, very _long_ nights, rutting frantically against each other in bed until they come, careful to leave their underwear on to stave off any last-minute temptation, just in case. The end result, of course, is some pretty intense sexual frustration.  
  
  
By Sunday night, Louis finally breaks.  
  
  
Harry has him pinned beneath him in bed, mouthing obscenely at his neck as he drags his cock against Louis’s thigh, desperate to get off. Louis already has, once; the front of his briefs are wet with it, cum splattered across his belly. He can literally _feel_ how horny Harry is, how eager he is to get his cock inside him, to the point that Louis can also smell the pheromones Harry’s body is giving off, and… _Christ_.  
  
  
The scent alone is making Louis dizzy. It’s so familiar, reminding him of all the nights they’ve spent in this bed, tangled up in silky sheets, touching and tasting and coming and grinding until their bodies get weak. It smells like sex, musky and laced with sweat and a bit of cologne. But most of all, it smells like Harry. And that’s more addictive than anything.  
  
  
It doesn’t help that Harry keeps murmuring senselessly into Louis’s neck, all broken, dirty words of desire, his hands on Louis’s body, going everywhere, groping and possessive and needy. Louis wonders if any of this is even normal, the two of them being _this_ fucking gone for it. He wonders if it’s because there’s now a limitation in place that was never there before, and the sheer denial of it all, of wanting something they _can’t_ have – if _that’s_ what’s making them this lust-sick and crazy, wanting it more than ever.  
  
  
“ _Baby_ ,” Harry whines, his cock thick against Louis’s thigh.  
  
  
To hell with limitations, Louis thinks. Dick stimulation has its merits but…fuck, he would just really like something against his prostate right about now, to be honest. Nothing else compares for Louis. And he doesn’t even care anymore, he just _wants_.  
  
  
“Harry…”  
  
  
Harry groans at the sound of Louis’s voice and latches his mouth to the pulse-point in his throat, sucking hard. Louis tips his head back, closing his eyes in anguish before gasping out, “God, just _fuck_ me, Harry, please.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head back, flushed and out of breath. “Can’t,” he says, sounding pained, like it’s taking every bit of restraint he’s got. “We promised.”  
  
  
Louis makes a sad sound and Harry rolls onto his side, pulling Louis with him. He hauls Louis’s thigh up high over his waist, pressing their groins tight together. The thin material of their briefs is damp with sweat and come between them, filthy. Harry’s hips stutter forward, dragging his bulge against Louis’s, seeking friction. Louis mewls at the feeling and Harry pulls him in for a kiss. It’s all tongues, messy and wet and perfect. Harry bucks his hips – practically _humping_ him, and Louis grinds back with a weak moan.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss, breathing shakily. “Call me it,” he begs. “Fuck – please, baby. Call me it.”  
  
  
Louis shivers against him. “Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry moans, pleased, a bead of precome spilling out from his slit at the word. And Louis looks down to see Harry’s cockhead bulging against his briefs, the cotton stretched taut and wet around it. He pouts, biting his lip. “Daddy, want it.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, breathless. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, baby. Just not tonight. Tomorrow, though…” Harry smoothes his hand up Louis’s thigh and reaches around to cup his arse, giving it a squeeze.  
  
  
Louis’s breath hitches at the promise and Harry starts to kiss him again, so deceptively sweet compared to the filthy way he’s dragging his cock against him. “Tomorrow…m'gonna touch you all over,” Harry whispers, “do all the things I know you like,” he pauses with a smirk, “…even the things you won’t admit to.”  
  
  
Louis shivers, his face heating up.  
  
  
Harry chuckles, low in his throat. “That okay?”  
  
  
_That’s more than okay_ , Louis thinks but he doesn’t say it, just nods.  
  
  
Harry grinds his hips into Louis, groaning once he’s found a good angle. “You gonna be good for me?” he whispers between kisses. “Let me have you any way I want?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and nods again, going limp and still in his arms, letting Harry rut against him. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry murmurs, and then he rocks his hips, _hard_ and deliberate, “Because I’m gonna fuck the come out of you.”  
  
  
Louis cries out then, “oh – _oh my god_ ,” his cock exploding helplessly between them.  
  
  
Harry follows soon after, and they collapse against each other, sweat-soaked and exhausted, falling fast into sleep.  
  
  
And it’s enough.  
  
  
  
For now.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Needless to say, Louis is more than ready when Monday morning rolls around.  
  
  
They start the day out early. The work alarm on Harry’s iPhone chimes in at its usual time, half eight in the morning. He gently strokes Louis’s hair until he wakes and then pulls him into the shower with him, blinking sleepily from under the hot spray of water. They bathe until they’re nice and clean, still yawning a bit, before stepping out of the en-suite wrapped in towels.  
  
  
“Don’t get dressed yet,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
So Louis sits on the edge of the bed and waits, watching as Harry gets ready for work. Once he’s finished, dressed in some tight dark jeans and a button-up top patterned with palm trees, he steps back out of his closet, carrying a small, white box in his hands.  
  
  
He sits down on the bed beside Louis, placing the box in his lap. “Bought this for you.”  
  
  
Louis looks up at him. “For me?”  
  
  
“Mhm,” Harry murmurs. “Go ahead and open it.”  
  
  
Louis traces his fingertips along the outer edges of the box. He already has some idea of what’s inside – this was one part of the plan in particular that they talked about quite a bit – but there are still tiny tremors of nervous excitement coursing through him, now. He unties the silky pink ribbon that’s wrapped around the box and then carefully lifts the lid, setting it aside on the mattress. There’s decorative paper inside, sparkly and fluffy and white. He digs through it, sheet by sheet, gasping softly when he sees what’s hidden inside…a _plug_.  
  
  
Louis closes his fingers around it and lifts it from the box, looking it over, slightly awestruck. It’s rubbery in texture; pink and translucent like gelatin, with three bubble-like bulbs towards the end of the shaft, tapered at the tip like a cock. It’s like something Louis has seen in a porn before, but this is so much better – it’s _his_. Harry chose it just for him. Pretty and baby pink and _Louis’s_. His very first, very own plug.  
  
  
He can just picture Harry stopping by one of _those_ shops on his way home from work, secretively sifting through the selection of toys, taking his time, and picking out a special one for Louis. One that’s firm but flexible, perfect for a beginner, and shaped to give him pleasure. Harry is always so considerate, always thinking of his needs, taking _such_ good care of him. It’s sort of silly how something like a plug could make Louis feel so special and loved, but. It does.  
  
  
Harry watches for his reaction with rapt attention, his shoulders sagging in relief, “…you like it?” he breathes.  
  
  
“It’s perfect,” Louis nods, marveling as he slides his fingertip along the smooth edge. “Thank you,” he whispers, suddenly feeling shy.  
  
  
Harry wraps an around him and kisses his temple. “We don’t have to use it now, y’know. If it makes you more comfortable, we could wait—”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, cutting him off. “No, no – want to.”  
  
  
Harry studies his face. “You sure?”  
  
  
“I’m sure,” Louis nods, his cheeks flushing more and more as he stares at the toy in his hand. It looks so simple, and yet still so… _obscene_. He fidgets, shifting nervously on the bed. “Just – will you help…?”  
  
  
“Of course, baby,” Harry nods, taking the plug from him. “Lie back for me.”  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath, lying down with his legs dangling off the side of the mattress, his hands laced together over his tummy while Harry reaches into the bedside table drawer for some lube. Then he settles back on the bed beside him, popping the cap. Louis shyly spreads his thighs apart, feeling positively bashful at what’s about to happen.  
  
  
Harry gives him a reassuring smile, stroking his fringe with one hand while he carefully fingers him open with the other, prepping him for the plug. He kisses Louis all the while, swallowing all of the little sounds he makes. “So good for me,” Harry murmurs in praise, and Louis preens, parting his thighs for him some more.  
  
  
Afterwards, Harry sits back on his haunches, thoroughly coating the plug with lube until it’s shiny and dripping. He brings it to Louis’s rim, circling it around. And Louis’s breath hitches at the first touch, just a little nervous.  
  
  
Harry kisses his cheek, teasing the tip of the toy against his rim, wet and insistent. “This okay?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly and nods, and then Harry nudges the plug inside, slowly, letting him properly adjust. It slips in with a wet sound, easing back and forth a few times before finally settling into place. And Louis sucks in a breath at the feeling. It’s definitely not as big as Harry’s cock, but it’s – it’s something _inside_ of him. The closest he’s gotten to the real thing in days.  
  
  
Harry watches hungrily as Louis’s hole clenches around the plug, the base flared and resting tight against his rim, lube seeping out around it. He takes hold of it, giving a few twists and turns, and Louis shudders a bit when the tip nudges towards his prostate. “ _Oh_ ,” he whispers, just a breath.  
  
  
Harry smiles, pleased, and pats at his hip. “All done, baby.” He stands up from the bed then, pulling Louis with him. The plug moves slightly at the change in position and Louis wobbles on his feet, not used to the feeling.  
  
  
Harry steadies him, placing his hands on Louis’s shoulders. “Feel alright?”  
  
  
Louis shifts from one foot to the other, testing it out before nodding. “Think so.”  
  
  
Harry bites his lip, “…you sure you’re okay with this? Just – I feel sort of guilty.”  
  
  
Louis looks up at him, quirking his brow. “Why?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs with a frown, his hands sliding down to Louis’s soft waist. “It’s your first time wearing one and I won’t be here with you ‘til later.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs back. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
  
Harry studies him for a moment longer and then nods. “If you start to feel uncomfortable, just text me your word and I’ll tell you to take it out, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, and Harry drops a kiss to his hair. “Wait here.”  
  
  
So Louis waits, standing naked by the bed, feeling his hole rhythmically clench and unclench around the unfamiliar intrusion. He watches as Harry disappears into his own closet first, and then Louis’s, coming back seconds later with some clothes in his hands. He offers them to Louis, smiling sheepishly. “Could you wear these for me?”  
  
  
He’s chosen one of his own t-shirts, of course, soft grey in colour. It’s too big for Louis, the hem slipping down to his thighs, and Harry would be lying if he said that didn’t make his cock stir a bit. He loves seeing him in his clothes. For pants, however, he’s chosen a single pair of Louis’s white briefs. He watches as Louis slips them on, moving a bit awkwardly because of the plug inside him. _That_ makes Harry’s cock stir even more, but…later, he resolves. He’s due at work in half an hour.  
  
  
So, he takes Louis’s hand, leading him out of the master bedroom and then down the stairs. They pause in the foyer by the front door, and Louis folds his hands obediently behind his back, waiting for his instructions for the day.  
  
  
Harry grabs his keys from the hook. “Liam had a conference in Sheffield today. It’s an overnight trip and he’s taken Zayn with him, so you’ll be here by yourself,” he tells him, chuckling softly. “Otherwise I would have covered you up more.”  
  
  
Louis smirks a bit, crossing his feet at the ankles.  
  
  
Harry continues, “Now, unless you colour out, I want you to leave your plug in. It will be more difficult today, but you know the rules: no touching and no coming.”  
  
  
Louis nods, and he’s thankful for the t-shirt that slips down past his hips, concealing the fact that his cock is already perking up just from listening to Harry give him orders.  
  
  
Harry pulls his iPhone from his pocket, checking that it’s not on silent. “I’ll have my phone on me if you need me. And I’ll be texting you to check in, so keep yours close by, too.”  
  
  
Louis nods. “I will.”  
  
  
Harry lifts his arm then, pulling him into a hug, and Louis tucks himself against his chest. He chews on his lip, suddenly feeling clingy and anxious. He doesn’t want Harry to go. “I – how long will you be gone?”  
  
  
Harry hums, rubbing his back. “Should be home no later than 3:15. If something else comes up, I’ll call you.”  
  
  
3:15…that’s – that’s more than _six hours_ away. Louis’s arms tighten around him. “’kay.”  
  
  
Harry kisses his hair, still damp from the shower and smelling of shampoo. “You can go back to sleep now if you want. I’ll text you around eleven.” He tips his chin, pressing their lips together.  
  
  
Louis stands on his toes and pushes up into the kiss, eagerly parting his lips for him. Harry kisses him, slow and deep, but still holding back. _Tempting_. A promise for more – for later. He tightens his hands around Louis’s hips, giving them a little squeeze as he buries his face in his neck. “Hate leaving you,” Harry murmurs with a pout.  
  
  
Louis hides a smile against his chest, whispering back, “Hate when you leave.”  
  
  
Harry grins and peppers his neck with kisses. One of his hands slips under Louis’s t-shirt, sliding around to cup his thigh, just below the swell of his bum. He feels Louis shudder against him and smirks, nuzzling at his ear. “You gonna be a good boy while I’m gone?” he whispers, keeping his voice low even though there’s no one else around to hear.  
  
  
Louis nods, “’course, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry groans a bit, nipping at his neck before reluctantly pulling away. “Alright…I’ll be home later, baby. I love you. Keep the doors locked.”  
  
  
“I love you,” Louis echoes.  
  
  
And he misses Harry before the door even closes, before the lock clicks into place, before the silence of the mansion settles in around him, reminding him that he’s so very alone.  
  
  
It’s all part of the plan, Louis tells himself, as he climbs the grand staircase and heads back to bed, knowing the first few hours will pass by much quicker if he sleeps. He shamelessly uses Harry’s pillow, finding traces of his scent still lingering there, and hugs his own pillow against his chest for comfort. Falling asleep is a bit of a challenge with the plug in but Louis drifts off soon enough, yawning into the sheets.

  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
At around eleven o’clock, Louis wakes up to a text from _Daddy_ , two tiny pink hearts beside the name. He quickly swipes his thumb at the screen, reading the simple words that make him smile ridiculously big, ‘ _Hi, baby_.’ He thumbs out a reply and drops his phone with a yawn, rolling onto his back. It’s only then that Louis realises he’s hard, his cock stiff inside his briefs from sleeping with the plug in. He winces as he adjusts himself, careful not to touch too much.  
  
  
It’s going to be a long day.  
  
  
  
Louis gets out of bed for the second time that morning, heading to the en-suite to comb his messy fringe and brush his teeth. For the next few hours, Harry texts him with tasks to do around the house, little things to keep Louis occupied, so he isn’t just climbing the walls. It helps him to feel connected to Harry while he’s away at work, gives him a sense of purpose. The accomplished feeling Louis gets when Harry texts back ‘ _good boy_ ’ after he’s finished tidying up the bathroom like he was told is enough to keep him going.  
  
  
Once that’s finished, Harry asks him to change the bed sheets, and Louis finds a freshly laundered set in the linen closet, smelling of detergent. He tucks in all of the corners, as neat as can be, even though he knows it’s probably pointless. The sheets are just going to get tangled and sweat-soaked again later when Harry finally takes him to bed.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at the thought, climbing up onto the mattress to arrange the pillows. At the sudden movement, the plug nudges forward inside of him, brushing right up against his prostate. Louis falters with a gasp that turns into a soft moan… _Jesus,_ that felt good. He’s bent forward on the bed, his arms out in front of him, hands clutching at a pillow…If he were to rock back and forth a bit, he could almost fuck himself on the toy, but…no. Harry didn’t give him permission to do that.  
  
  
Louis collapses back onto the mattress with a sigh. He wrinkles his nose, carefully wiggling his hips in attempts to shift the plug away from his spot and alleviate the constant pressure. He stares up at the ceiling, trying his best to ignore his erection. _Just don’t think about it_ , he whispers to himself. He glances at the digital clock on his iPhone; three more hours to go. He drags his palm along the sheets, feeling rather impatient.  
  
  
He wonders what Harry is doing.  
  
  
Louis gets an idea then, the corner of his lip quirking up mischievously. He slowly climbs down from the bed and makes his way to his closet, flicking the light on. He slips inside and pauses in front of the full-length mirror, looking himself over. And then he opens up the camera app on his phone.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx

  
  
  
  
Somewhere across town, Harry is at work, sat behind a desk in the fifth-floor conference room. Sitting across from him is one of the hotel managers, dressed in a nice suit, and to the manager’s right is an architect, a woman with red-framed glasses and long, dark hair. There’s a blue-print laid out on the desk in front of them, showing the floor-plan of a new hotel that’s in the works.  
  
  
“I was thinking,” the manager says then, leaning forward in his chair, “we could reduce the size of the indoor pool and lengthen the Jacuzzi, instead?” He looks up to Harry for his approval and Harry nods, indifferent, watching as the architect jots down notes.  
  
  
Just then, Harry’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s quick to check the notification, smiling when he sees the name on the screen. He nearly drops his phone, however, when he opens up the text.  
  
  
It’s a photo. A photo of Louis, of course. Stood in front of the closet mirror at home, his feet apart, toes turned slightly inward. He’s wearing the t-shirt Harry put him in that morning – _Harry’s_ shirt, lifting it up slightly with his hand to show off a bit of his tummy, and the small bulge at the front of his briefs. His hair is soft and tousled like it gets whenever he sleeps on it wet, and he’s pouting a bit, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Underneath the photo is a text that says, ‘ _miss you daddy x’_ and Harry shifts in his seat, his cock already filling up inside his jeans. Louis knows _exactly_ how to tease him. What he wouldn’t give to touch that golden skin…  
  
  
“Harry?”  
  
  
His head snaps back up then, having momentarily forgotten where the hell he was. The manager is giving him an expectant look from across the desk, completely oblivious. Harry clears his throat and shifts in his seat once again, tugging nonchalantly at the crotch of his jeans.  
  
  
“Er, sorry. Could you repeat that?”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, back at the house, Louis stays glued to his phone, eagerly awaiting Harry’s reply. It comes through about ten minutes later, ‘ _Miss you more xx_ ’ and Louis bites his lip when he sees that Harry’s sent him a photo, too.  
  
  
From the looks of it, the picture was taken from under a desk, aimed at Harry’s lap while he’s sat casually back in a chair. Louis smiles to himself, wondering if there were other people around at the time, forcing Harry to be discreet. It’s a bit dark, but the effect is just the same; Louis can clearly see the outline of Harry’s cock through his jeans, bulging out along his inner-thigh. He’s got a hand on it, cupping himself lightly. And Louis just stares for a while, fidgeting.  
  
  
He really, _really_ wishes Harry were here.  
  
  
  
Eventually, Louis wanders downstairs to have a quick snack and tidy up the kitchen, per Harry’s orders, washing the dishes in the sink. It sounds like mindless housework, but Louis is more than happy to have some sort of distraction. He’s moving a little slower than usual, today. The plug has made him hyper-aware of his movements, turning his limbs to jelly whenever it shifts just right and stimulates his spot (Harry picked a _good_ one). His cock never goes back to soft, just keeps throbbing dully inside his briefs, distraught at the lack of attention.  
  
  
He tries to take his mind off of it, tries to focus on something – _anything_ other than his own hopeless desire, but then he just ends up thinking about Harry again, and that only makes it worse. One thing is for certain: the plan seems to be working like a charm. Having been denied any real sex for the last three days only to be plugged up and made to wait on the fourth has Louis _gagging_ for it like mad. Even something as tedious as the up-and-down motion of stacking plates in the kitchen cupboard has his breathing quickening embarrassingly, and when he takes a step to the side, his hard dick brushes up against the counter, pulling a tiny whimper from his lips, and _honestly_ now. What the hell is wrong with him?  
  
  
If this is what Harry was aiming for, to have Louis all flushed and flustered and wound up like a spring, he’s hit the target dead center.  
  
  
Louis crosses the tile to the refrigerator, careful not to walk too fast and jostle the plug. He digs out a water bottle, hoping the cold water will help to cool him off a bit. He gulps it so fast, some of it dribbles down his chin. He hadn’t even realised he was thirsty. No wonder Harry instructed him to keep his fluids up today. Guiltily, it had slipped his mind.  
  
  
  
By one o’clock, it all starts catching up to him. His cock so terribly hard it’s steadily beginning to ache, and the stimulation from the toy, so good but never quite enough, keeping him on a constant, maddening edge, all paired with Harry’s gentle praises sent through the phone, ‘ _how’s my best boy doing?_ ’ and, most recently, _‘wanna fuck you til you cry.’_  
  
  
  
Truthfully, Louis is starting to feel a little spacey from it all.  
  
  
It’s like he can’t think straight, can’t concentrate on anything except for the plug that’s nestled inside him, occasionally rubbing at his prostate, making his cock swell up and twitch with each hard jab, throbbing when it’s denied release yet _again_.  
  
  
It’s strange, feeling like this when Harry isn’t around. It’s like he’s missing one of his limbs without him here. Of course, he always misses Harry when he’s at work, but… _god_ , not like this. Never like this. Everything is so much more intense today. He just feels so… _needy_.  
  
  
And Louis knows it’s because of the plug. The one Harry picked out special just for him, the one Harry wants him to use while he’s away at work, answering phone calls and attending meetings and chatting with colleagues who have no idea that his sub is currently at home, all plugged up and waiting for him, being _so_ good, wearing the clothes he picked out. Just the thought of it all, that he’s being good for Harry, doing exactly as he’s told – _submitting_ , even while he’s away – makes the desire to be near him again almost unbearable.  
  
  
He wants Harry to come home, wants him to order Louis around so he doesn’t even have to think for himself anymore. He wants to be cuddled, and fucked, and then cuddled again. He wants the forehead kisses and soft looks of approval, Harry’s hands on his body, Harry’s voice _…So good for me.  
_  
  
More than anything, Louis just wants his Daddy.  
  
  
Sure enough, just as predicted, this entire scene they’ve created – it isn’t just affecting Louis’s body. There’s something psychological tied in with it, too. His head is fuzzy, detached. His concentration is off, his thoughts muddled and murky, and he feels so warm, like he’s just woken up from a long nap, or downed four shots of cinnamon whiskey.  
  
  
He accidentally drops the dishtowel he was holding, bends down to pick it up. Then the plug shifts just right once again and he whines, freezing in place. He’s – fuck, he’s so close to coming, been so hard for so long it would only take a few more thrusts, but he _can’t_.  
  
  
With a sigh of defeat, Louis drops the towel onto the worktop and slowly wanders into the den, needing to rest for a bit. He gingerly sits down on the couch, holding back a groan. The pressure of the plug always intensifies when he sits. He bites his lip, hands balled into fists, resisting the urge to rock back and forth on the toy. He wants to sit down on something firm, preferably Harry’s lap, and grind until he comes and comes and _comes._  
  
  
He feels pitiful like this, and needy, but he just doesn’t _care_ anymore. He scrambles for his phone, sending Harry a text: a simple emoji, the frowning-face one.  
  
  
It startles him when his phone starts to ring not even a minute later, except it’s not a text. Harry is calling him for the first time that day. Louis is quick to answer, eager to hear his voice. “Hello?”  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry murmurs from the other end of the line, sounding worried. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
Louis fondly rolls his eyes; leave it to Harry to worry and fuss over him because of a _sad-faced emoji_. He shrugs his shoulders, even though Harry can’t actually see him. “Nothing…”  
  
  
Harry doesn’t buy it, of course. “Do you need me to come home now?” he asks, voice laced with concern.  
  
  
“No,” Louis asserts, shaking his head. “It’s – I can wait, it’s just…I miss you.”  
  
  
Harry makes a sad sound into the phone. “I know, baby. I miss you, too. Won’t be too much longer now, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods, waiting for Harry to talk some more. He just likes hearing his voice.  
  
  
“How are you feeling?” Harry asks then, gently. “Alright?”  
  
  
Louis thinks about it. “I feel okay, but…everything is moving so slow.”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “Just like we talked about?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis nods.  
  
  
“Have you been drinking enough water?”  
  
  
Louis shifts, guiltily. “Uhm. I forgot, ‘til a few minutes ago.” He hears Harry make a displeased sound at that and quickly adds, “got a water bottle with me now, though.”  
  
  
Thankfully, Harry doesn’t sound angry. “Try to drink it all, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, taking another gulp.  
  
  
“What are you doing now?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis presses his wet lips against the back of his hand. “Nothing, just on the couch in the den.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry says. “Want you to stay there and rest now, okay? Only get up if you need to.”  
  
  
“Okay.”  
  
  
It’s silent for a moment, until Harry says, “I liked your photo.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “You did?”  
  
  
“Mhmm,” Harry murmurs. “Got me hard in the middle of a conference, you little minx.”  
  
  
Louis laughs into the phone, and Harry smiles at the sound. He sits back, making himself comfortable in his desk chair. “How’s the toy, baby? Do you like it?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis says, shyly, “it’s…it’s good.”  
  
  
Harry smiles knowingly. “It got you hard yet?”  
  
  
Louis miserably tips his head back against the couch cushions. “Been hard for _hours_.”  
  
  
Harry hums sympathetically. “You haven’t touched though, right? Been a good boy?”  
  
  
Louis closes his eyes with a nod, his cock perking up again just from hearing Harry talk to him like this. “Yes.”  
  
  
“And you haven’t come at all?”  
  
  
“No.” Louis says, chewing at his lip. “Been really close a few times but…I didn’t.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry nods in approval. “Just keep being good for me and I’ll make you come _so_ much, baby. Fuck you all night.”  
  
  
Louis whines into the phone, biting down on his knuckle. He thinks he could blow his load just _listening_ to Harry.  
  
  
A little more than an hour and he’ll be home, Harry promises, before they reluctantly say their goodbyes and hang up. Louis settles back into the cushions with a sigh, watching the clock on the wall tick away the seconds. He wonders if it’s possible that time has slowed down altogether.  
  
  
He’s never been this hard for this long, never had to deny himself this much. Curiously, he hikes his shirt up, tucking it under his chin. Then he peels back the waistband of his briefs, peeking inside. His prick looks so _swollen_ , flushing a deep, anguished red. The tip is wet and sticky from where he’s been steadily leaking precome all day, too full to keep it all in.  
  
  
He thinks of how little it would take, how easily he could get away with it…a couple of quick pulls on his dick and he’d be coming all over his fist. There’s still plenty of time left before Harry gets home. Louis could get himself off, clean himself up, and Harry would never have to know.  
  
  
The thing is, he doesn’t actually want to.  
  
  
All he really wants is to be good, craving approval that’s well earned. And strangely…he sort of _likes_ the denial of it all. He likes how he wants so much it’s making his head a little foggy. He sort of feels out of his mind, like all of the blood has left his brain in favor of pumping straight to his groin, leaving him strung out and dazed by his own constant arousal. He wants so much he can’t breathe, but it’s – it’s satisfying in a way. Knowing he’s doing this all for Harry, knowing he’ll be _rewarded_ for it.  
  
  
Louis flicks the telly on, keeping the volume low. He spends the next hour or so dozing in and out of a restless sleep, curled up in a ball at the end of the couch. His thoughts are mostly images, all blurred around the edges. Silky sheets against his back and parted lips at his neck, fingertips tracing secret places and a warm weight wrapped up between his thighs, black ink scattered over soft pale skin, and lots of gentle touches. And then there’s something moving inside, so deep he feels a tingle in his spine.  
  
  
Distantly, he hears a car door slam. He lies still, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Maybe it was just in his dreams.  
  
  
Then he hears a key turning in the lock of the front door and Louis is suddenly wide-awake, scrambling up from the couch. _He’s home, he’s finally home._  
  
  
When Harry walks through the door, Louis hurries into the foyer, throwing his arms around his middle before he even has a chance to say hello. It can’t be possible that they’ve only been apart for six hours. It feels like six weeks.  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis whispers against his chest, clutching at him, his voice so quiet and small Harry might have missed it.  
  
  
Harry’s heart clenches at that. He loves his boy so much. “ _Baby_ ,” he murmurs, feeling Louis’s arms tighten around him at the pet-name. He drops his keys without a second thought, wrapping Louis up in a hug. “Did you miss me?”  
  
  
Louis nods from where he’s tucked under Harry’s bicep. “So much.”  
  
  
They embrace for a few quiet moments, breathing each other in. Harry’s hands rub soft circles against Louis’s back, peppering the top of his head with kisses, while Louis noses happily at his chest. He presses in close, not leaving a single gap of space between their bodies. He’s hoping that maybe Harry will take pity on him and make him come already if he feels just how hard Louis is against his thigh.  
  
  
It almost works. Harry is finding it nearly impossible not to give in when he has Louis—horny, flustered Louis latched onto him, needing him so much. But Harry steels himself. _Not yet_. There are other things to be taken care of, first.  
  
  
Reluctantly, he detaches Louis’s arms from around his waist, pulling away. A flash of hurt crosses Louis’s face at the loss of contact, and Harry _almost_ breaks, two seconds from giving in. Instead, he gives him a reassuring smile, patting at his hip.  
  
  
“Let’s eat something, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head, begrudgingly, but he knows better than to whine about it. Good boys are patient. And anyway, it’s an endless relief just to have Harry here with him, again.  
  
  
So, he follows him to the kitchen, bare feet padding quietly on the tile. Harry pulls open the double-doors of the refrigerator, humming to himself as he peers inside. “Think we should have an early dinner. Maybe heat up some of the beef stew from last night.” He glances over his shoulder at Louis. “That sound good?”  
  
  
Louis nods, leaning back against the worktop. He watches as Harry pulls out the container of leftovers, dishing them into two separate bowls. He pops them in the microwave, and while the food is heating up, he makes them both something to drink, two tall glasses of ice water.  
  
  
He hands the drinks to Louis. “Can you carry these to the table for me?”  
  
  
Louis nods, happy to help. He holds one glass in each hand and walks slow, careful not to spill anything. He’s still not totally steady on his feet.  
  
  
By the time he sets the glasses down, Harry follows shortly into the dining room, carrying two steaming bowls of stew. Louis sits down in one of the chairs, wincing a bit at the pressure of the plug. Harry doesn’t seem to notice, just sets a bowl down in front of Louis, tucking a spoon inside. “Grated some cheese over yours, just how you like it,” he simpers.  
  
  
Louis smiles in thanks, blowing at the steam.  
  
  
They sit side-by-side as they eat, alone at the end of the dining table. It’s a relatively quiet dinner, as Louis has a hard time keeping up with conversation, his mind still a bit clouded over from the frequent stimulation against his prostate. He’s halfway through his meal when he starts slowing down, can’t seem to work up a proper appetite.  
  
  
Beside him, Harry’s bowl is already empty. He leans in close, wrapping an arm around Louis’s waist and nodding down at his half-eaten stew. “Can you finish it?” he murmurs.  
  
  
Louis shrugs, pushing his spoon around inside his bowl. “Don’t feel very hungry.”  
  
  
“I know,” Harry prompts, gently, “Normally I wouldn’t press but, the things we’re doing today… they can be very draining on the body, remember? I need to make sure you get enough to eat and keep your fluids up. Can you do that for me?”  
  
  
Louis thinks he would do anything for Harry. He gives him a rueful smile and nods, scooping up another spoonful. Harry doesn’t rush him, just keeps a hand on his thigh and waits as he finishes eating. Afterwards, he passes Louis his water glass, encouraging him to drink. Louis does, sipping slowly until there’s nothing but ice cubes left at the bottom of the cup. Harry smiles, proud, and gathers up their empty bowls, carrying them back to the kitchen. Louis helps him load the dishwasher and then folds his hands behind his back, waiting for whatever’s next. It’s all in Harry’s hands today, Louis is just following his lead.  
  
  
Harry rolls his shoulders back, scratching absently at his hip. “There’s still some things I need to finish up in my office,” he tells him, “d’you wanna sit in there with me for a bit while I work?”  
  
  
Louis nods and lets Harry take his hand, leading him out of the kitchen. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t walk too fast, slowing his pace to match Louis’s slight waddle. When they reach the bottom of the grand staircase, Louis warily bites his lip. Climbing stairs is the _worst_. Every step jostles the plug inside him, each lift of his leg pushes it in deeper, back and forth. And there’s too many steps on this thing, it feels like he’s climbing a mountain.  
  
  
They’ve made it more than halfway when Louis falters, his breath hitching on a step that nestles the toy perfectly against his spot. “ _Ah_ ,” Louis breathes, barely a gasp, his knees wobbly at the feeling.  
  
  
Harry tries not to smile, bringing a hand to the small of Louis’s back. “You okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his cheeks pink. “m’fine,” he mutters, shaking his head. And they carry on, climbing each painstaking step until they finally reach the second landing.  
  
  
When they get to Harry’s office, Louis goes straight to the couch and has a seat, watching and waiting. Harry sits down behind his desk, firing up his MacBook. Admittedly, he doesn’t actually have much work left to do today. This was just another part of the plan, edging Louis some more, making him wait for it even longer. Harry opens up some files, selecting documents that need to be printed, but he’s having a hard time focusing. The truth is, he’s _rather_ distracted by the boy that’s sat just a few feet away from him.  
  
  
Over on the couch, Louis is staring down at his lap, tugging at his shirt hem, like he’s trying not to let it show how affected he is by the toy inside him. He’s still hopelessly obvious, blushing and squirming in the best possible way.  
  
  
“Louis,” Harry says then, trying to gauge his mental state.  
  
  
Louis looks up at him, his eyes a bit glassy. And Harry can tell that he’s already begun to slip into a soft, fuzzy headspace. Harry smiles, nodding towards the aquarium tank that sits against the office wall. “D’you think you could feed the fish for me? They’re probably hungry.”  
  
  
Louis nods and quickly stands up from the couch, pleased to be given something to do. Harry sits back and watches his every move, effortlessly endeared. He just can’t get over how perfect Louis is, can’t actually believe he’s been walking around the house like this all day, flushed and hard and a little spacey, wearing Harry’s t-shirt. It falls past his hips in such a way that he could almost be naked underneath, but Harry knows _exactly_ what’s hidden under that t-shirt. He knows exactly what has Louis moving so slow, biting at his lip, his cheeks pink. How anyone can look so soft and adorable and still so _fuckable_ at the same time, Harry will never understand.  
  
  
He had planned on working aimlessly at his desk for at least another half-hour, but after watching Louis, the urge to touch him and dom him and take care of him is honestly overwhelming. He’s losing his grip. And the crazy thing is, Louis doesn’t even seem to be aware that he’s affecting Harry like this.  
  
  
Across the room, Louis stands up on his toes and sprinkles a few flakes of fish food into the aquarium tank before carefully sliding the lid back into place. He watches as the fish dart out from behind miniature rocks and castles and coral reefs, swimming up to the surface to peck at the food. He stares at the bubbles, his mind honing in on the low hum of the filter, getting lost in the sound.  
  
  
He startles when two arms wrap around him from behind.  
  
  
Harry curls himself around Louis, burrowing his face in the crook of his shoulder. Louis goes limp against him, letting Harry nuzzle possessively at his neck. “Do you have any idea how good you look right now?” he whispers, kissing behind his ear. “It’s so fucking distracting. I can’t even think about anything else.”  
  
  
Louis isn’t sure what to make of that, his mind hazy, “…do you want me to – leave?”  
  
  
Harry smiles against his neck. “No, love. Been dying to touch you all day. Not letting you go, now.”  
  
  
Louis releases the breath he was holding, relaxing in Harry’s arms.  
  
  
Harry slips his hands up under the t-shirt, touching all over Louis’s thighs before settling on his hips. The skin is soft, hot under Harry’s hands. He tightens his grip, pulling Louis back against his cock, hard inside his jeans. “Baby, could you help me take care of this?” he whispers, his lips catching wetly on Louis’s earlobe.  
  
  
Louis shudders against him. He nods, his eyelashes fluttering closed. _Finally_.  
  
  
Harry scoops him up then, one arm hooked under Louis’s knees, the other going around his back. Louis lets out a surprised squeak, clinging to Harry as he carries him out of the office, down the hall to the master bedroom. And this is what Louis has been waiting for all day. This moment.  
  
  
  
The air in the room is cool and untouched, the ceiling fan turning lazily on its axis. Daylight falls in through the windows, soft and muted behind a flurry of grey clouds. In the distance, a storm is raging, but Harry has the sun held in his arms. He kicks the door closed behind them and sets Louis back down on his feet, just a few steps from the bed, still perfectly made up and waiting for them, as inviting as Harry’s hand on the small of Louis’s back.  
  
  
Harry kisses him, slow and indulgent, gently sucking on Louis’s bottom lip. Louis is still moving too slow to properly kiss back, but Harry doesn’t mind at all. He likes the soft, breathy little sounds Louis keeps making against his lips, already so pliant for him.  
  
  
Harry rubs at his hips, smiling down at him. “Feel okay?”  
  
  
Louis just nods and presses himself closer, practically asking to be taken.  
  
  
Harry grips at Louis’s shirt then, tugging on it as if he means to take it off. He changes his mind midway, however, shaking his head. With his hands clenched in the cotton, he pulls Louis closer, kissing him again, quick and dirty. “Wanna fuck you in my t-shirt,” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis lets out a low whine at that, impatient. It’s made even worse when Harry suddenly drops his hands and backs away. “Want you to lie down on the bed, now,” he tells him. “On your back.”  
  
  
Louis scrambles to comply, crawling up onto the mattress and lying down flat. He looks around at Harry and frowns, anxious when he sees him walking away from the bed. “…Daddy?”  
  
  
Harry pauses on his way to the en-suite, looking over his shoulder at him. “m’not leaving you, baby. Just gonna wash up real quick.”  
  
  
So Louis waits on the bed, his skin on fire, electric, buzzing with nervous anticipation. It’s like the ache in his cock has grown progressively _worse_ ever since Harry came home, but even deeper than that, Louis feels a visceral need just to be near him, clinging like a vine.  
  
  
True to his word, Harry comes back a few moments later, drying his hands with a towel. He tosses it into the hamper and then starts to undress, long fingers working at the buttons of his top. Louis shivers when he hears the zip of his jeans come undone, conditioned to what that sound means, for what comes next, like muscle memory. Harry slips out of his clothes until he’s left with nothing but a few thin silver chains dangling from his neck, his hair falling in soft waves at his shoulders. His cock is heavy between his legs and he drags the heel of his palm against it.  
  
  
He climbs up onto the bed, finds Louis waiting for him, pliant and shy but also flustered and squirmy— _horny_. And Harry feels like he won the lottery, knowing he’s the only one who gets to take care of Louis when he’s like this.  
  
  
Louis is quiet as Harry gets him all settled in bed, fluffing a pillow before tucking it underneath his head. “You’ve been such a good boy today,” Harry tells him, “did everything I asked, just perfect.” He speaks slowly, coaxing Louis deeper into that soft, fuzzy headspace he’s in. He keeps kissing him, on his lips and his forehead and the tip of his nose, so gentle. And Louis smiles shyly, his cheeks pink. He sinks back against the pillows, feeling sort of tiny and special and loved.  
  
  
Harry’s hands are soft on his body, petting over his belly and down to his hip, where the t-shirt is bunched around Louis’s thighs. He pushes it up to see what’s underneath and finds Louis straining against his briefs, a little wet patch at the front where he’s leaked. Louis’s face heats up, embarrassed. He starts to fidget as Harry’s hand moves closer and closer to where he’s all stiff and hard between his legs, _naughty_.  
  
  
Harry cups his bulge, rubbing him over the cotton, the first real touch Louis has had all day, and Louis’s head tips back against the pillow with a small sigh. “ _Daddy_ ,” he whispers appreciatively, his hips canting up as Harry strokes him.  
  
  
“You’re so hard, baby,” Harry murmurs sympathetically, giving him a little squeeze. “Has it been like this all day?”  
  
  
Louis nods, guiltily. His cock thrives on each gentle touch of Harry’s hand over the cotton, _pulsing_ with the need to come. “Hurts,” Louis whispers.  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound, ducking down to kiss his temple. “Want Daddy to make it stop hurting?”  
  
  
Louis feels so small when Harry talks to him like this, so little and looked after. He likes feeling small. He nods his head, “please.”  
  
  
Harry smiles and hooks his fingers under Louis’s waistband. “Let’s get you out of these first, yeah? Lift up.”  
  
  
Louis obediently lifts his hips for him, letting Harry tug his briefs down over his thighs, tossing them away. His dick is pink and full where it’s curving up on his hip, an ache inside that only Harry can remedy. Harry stares down at it fondly, before he wraps his fingers around Louis’s cock and starts to pump. Louis shivers, his mouth falling open a bit on a moan. _Daddy_.  
  
  
Harry kisses his cheek. “Does that feel nice, baby?”  
  
  
Louis can only nod, keening. He’s already gone for it, so wound up, seconds from an orgasm that’s been building ever since Harry put a plug inside him early that morning. His breath keeps hitching, fingers twisted in the sheets. “m’close,” he gasps out, eyes clenched shut.  
  
  
“Already?” Harry whispers, a smile in his voice.  
  
  
Louis whimpers and bites down hard on his lip, trying to last just a little bit longer, if that’s what Harry wants. It doesn’t help when Harry starts to thumb at his slit, coaxing out thick blurts of precome. “Getting so wet,” Harry observes, spreading it around. “Just can’t hold it in anymore, can you, baby?”

  
Harry tightens his grip then, tugging on his cock, his thumb rubbing in tiny circles at the tip. Louis’s hips buck up from the bed with a shout and then he’s – he’s _coming_ , coming so much and so hard, spurting all over Harry’s fist, shivering as he strokes him through his orgasm, his first one at the end of a long day’s wait. _Finally._  
  
  
Louis collapses back against the pillows, feeling so much gratification and instant _relief_ he’s almost dizzy with it, the ache inside finally giving way, replaced with something nice and tingly. His chest heaves, catching his breath. “Oh, _thank you_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry smiles down at him, rubbing his hip. “That better?”  
  
  
Louis nods, breathless, watching as Harry wipes his hand off on the sheets, messy with Louis’s cum. Louis likes when it’s messy.  
  
  
Harry moves then, lying down between Louis’s parted thighs, propped up on his elbows. Tiny goosebumps sprout up all over Louis’s skin as Harry looks him over, his gaze slowly traveling all across Louis’s body, laid out so perfectly in front of him, like he can’t decide where to touch first.  
  
  
He starts with his stomach, pushing the t-shirt up some more to have a better look. It’s one of Harry’s favourite things in the world, Louis’s tummy. So much golden, soft skin and the slightest bit of pudge. He dips his chin, nuzzling his face against it, the skin warm and so very soft, baby soft. He peppers it all over with kisses, making Louis flinch and giggle, ticklish. And Harry smiles at the sound, nosing gently. “Love your little tummy,” he murmurs.  
  
  
He breathes in the warm bit of skin below his belly button, where Louis’s scent is musky and strong, a bit of come still splattered there. Harry licks at it with a noise of approval, his tongue trailing lower, and Louis’s giggles quickly turn into sharp intakes of breath. “Daddy,” he breathes.  
  
  
Harry groans at the word, rolling his hips down. The bed starts to move a bit as Harry grinds against the mattress, practically getting off just from sucking and nipping at Louis’s tummy, smothering it with affection. Looking down, Louis stares at the dip in Harry’s back, watches the muscles ripple there as he drags his cock on the bed. That must be how it looks when Harry fucks him, Louis realises, nibbling at his lip.  
  
  
Harry scoots down even further then, taking his time. He ducks his head, dropping a kiss to the tip of Louis’s spent cock, his tongue darting out to lick at him. Louis flinches and gasps, still sensitive from his last orgasm. Harry holds him around the hips to keep him still, sucking and licking at his cockhead, coaxing it back into hardness. Louis cries out but he's helpless against it, and in a matter of seconds, his cock starts filling up again between Harry’s lips.  
  
  
Harry pulls off with a smirk. “Good boy,” he murmurs, before setting back to work.  
  
  
Louis feels flushed all over, flustered and whimpering prettily because his Daddy is between his legs, making him feel so good. He reaches out a hand and threads his fingers through Harry’s hair, watching in awe as he expertly bobs his head, his cheeks hollowed out. He takes him deep before pulling back up to mouth at the tip, making little suckling sounds. “ _Oh_ ,” Louis squeaks with a jolt, his hips bucking where Harry has him pinned.  
  
  
Harry throws one of Louis’s thighs over his shoulder and scoots in closer, doubling his efforts. He wraps his lips tight around Louis’s cockhead, lapping at the underside before tonguing his slit, groaning when precome leaks out. He just keeps sucking and slurping around the tip, where Louis is so hard and sensitive, tingling when yet _another_ orgasm starts building at the base of his spine.  
  
  
“ _Daddyy_ ,” Louis whines, overwhelmed and tugging at Harry’s hair. “You’re gonna— _oh_ —gonna make me come again.”  
  
  
Harry pulls off with a wet sound, breathless, his mouth puffy and fizzing with spit. “That’s okay, baby, I want it,” he says, his voice rough from deep-throating. He turns his head, brushing his lips at Louis’s inner thigh. “Want you to come in my mouth, baby, wanna taste you.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t last much longer after that, as Harry takes him between his lips again, bobbing his head on his cock until Louis spills down his throat, moaning into the back of his hand. Afterwards, Louis’s dick is wet and limp between his legs but Harry just keeps _kissing_ it, licking at the underside, making Louis shudder, tender and oversensitive. He shakes his head, his hips shying away. “Hurts, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry pulls off then, sliding back up between his legs, hovering over him. Louis already looks pretty wrecked, his face hot and flushed, fringe wilted against his forehead, his lips swollen from where he’s been biting them to hold in his sounds. Best of all are his eyes, hooded and glossed over as he stares up at Harry, like he’s the only thing in the world.  
  
  
Right now, given the headspace Louis is in, that probably isn’t far from the truth.  
  
  
Harry smiles down at him, cradling his head in his hands. “Fuck, I just can’t get enough of you,” he whispers, brushing their lips together. “I don’t think I ever will.”  
  
  
Louis smiles. Such nice things Harry says to him. Always such nice things. He parts his lips for him, his thighs going up to wrap around his waist. Two orgasms in a row have left him even more strung out and spacey than before, but he clings to Harry, safe and warm. It feels like they’re under water, everything moving in slow motion.  
  
  
It takes him a while to realise that Harry’s cock is hard between his legs, the wet tip nudging against the inside of his thigh. Louis mewls, wiggling his hips to rub himself against it, and Harry smirks. “You like that?” he breathes against his lips. “Knowing how hard you’ve got me?”  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis whispers back, his mind struggling to come up with any other response.  
  
  
Harry has his hands all over him, groping at his arse and his hips and his thighs, dragging his cock between his legs. He buries his face in Louis’s neck, panting a bit. “Wanna fuck you,” he whispers, between one breath and the next. “Need it. Think I’ll go crazy if I don’t get inside you soon.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, and Harry keeps kissing him, sliding his hands up the t-shirt to touch his warm belly. “Wanna fuck you, baby, will you let me?” he whispers again, nosing at Louis’s cheek.  
  
  
Louis whines and nods, getting more and more fussy and flustered from how much he _wants_. He just wants _so much_ , but he can’t seem to put it into words, and it’s _frustrating_. Harry kisses him quiet, calming him down and stilling him with his hands. “Shh, I’ve got you, Louis,” he whispers. “It’s okay, baby, m’gonna take care of you. Just be still for me.”  
  
  
Louis goes limp at that, trained on Harry’s voice, his body submitting easily. He blinks up at him, and Harry can tell he’s slipped even further down than he was before. He’s so fucking perfect. Harry holds him, kissing his pink cheeks until he’s quiet and pliant, like warm clay in his hands.  
  
  
Eventually, Harry scoots over, lying beside Louis instead of on top of him. Louis whimpers at the brief loss of contact, but Harry quickly soothes him, rubbing at his tummy. His hand starts to drift back down between Louis’s thighs then, bypassing his limp cock, dipping lower. And then he feels it – the base of the plug, still resting snug against Louis’s rim, right where he left it that morning.  
  
  
Harry groans approvingly, nuzzling under his ear. “ _So_ good for me,” he whispers, tapping his finger at the base, “have you kept this in all day?”  
  
  
Louis hides his face in Harry’s chest, blushing at the praise. “I did,” he whispers with a nod.  
  
  
Harry chuckles a bit, kissing his hair. “Never thought I’d be so jealous of a toy.”  
  
  
Louis _preens_. He can’t stop blushing.  
  
  
Harry grips the base of the plug then, tugging on it slightly before pushing it back inside, listening to the way it makes Louis’s breath hitch, his cock twitching feebly in response. He gives the plug a twist, and Louis shivers when it rubs up against his prostate.  
  
  
Harry smiles, brushing his lips below his ear. “Do you like your toy, baby?”  
  
  
Louis nods with a sigh, parting his thighs for more. “It’s nice.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry whispers, crooking it up to tease at his spot. “Like it better than me?”  
  
  
Louis gasps and shakes his head. “Love Daddy,” he whispers. His vocabulary is as small as he feels at the moment.  
  
  
Harry feels his heart swell at that, resisting the urge to _swoon_. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, “I love you, too.”  
  
  
Louis actually turns red, hiding a bashful smile against Harry’s chest, and Harry can’t take his eyes off of him. He’s so god damn adorable when he’s down like this. Harry kisses the tip of his nose before pulling away, moving to kneel between Louis’s legs. He grabs a pillow from the headboard, lifting Louis easily at the hips and tucking it underneath.  
  
  
Louis lies splayed out in front of him, flushing pink, Harry’s t-shirt rucked up to his chest. He looks so fragile and blissed out already, and Harry is endlessly fond. He slides his hands up Louis’s thighs, taking hold of the base of the plug again. Slowly, he gives it a few gentle pulls, until it slips out from Louis’s body with a wet _pop_.  
  
  
Louis’s hole is left open, gaping a bit, pink and shiny with lube, fluttering at the loss. Harry just stares, his pupils blown, _mesmerized_. He rubs the pad of his thumb over Louis’s rim. “Christ, you’re so fucking pretty,” Harry mutters, almost to himself. Louis still hears him, though, blushing and biting his lip. He likes it when Harry calls him _pretty_.  
  
  
Harry leans forward then, digging some lube and a condom out of the bedside table drawer. He makes quick work of slicking himself up and then he’s lining up with Louis’s hole, already wet and open for him, waiting. _Finally._  
  
  
Harry nudges Louis’s thighs apart and pushes forward, biting back a groan when his cockhead catches on his rim. Nothing will ever compare to that first slide into Louis’s body, and it’s been _three whole days._ He’s not sure how he ever managed without it.  
  
  
Louis lies back against the sheets, gagging for it, so excited he’s practically trembling when Harry finally nudges his cock inside him. He starts to pump his hips and Louis’s head tips back on a moan, feeling so fucking full of him – so much better than the toy.  
  
  
Harry holds Louis’s thighs apart with his hands, and can’t help but stare down at his own cock, shiny and slick with lube as it slips in and out of Louis’s tiny little hole. “ _God_ ,” he whispers, breathing shakily. “Had your plug in all day and you’re still so _tight_ for me.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, locking his legs around Harry’s waist. Harry starts thrusting hard then, tilting Louis’s hips to switch up the angle, and Louis sees stars at the first brush against his spot. “Oh, _god_ ,” he whispers brokenly, biting down on his knuckle to hold in his sounds.  
  
  
Harry wraps his fingers around his wrist, tugging his hand away from his mouth. “None of that, baby. Wanna hear you,” Harry tells him, “always sound so good when you come on my cock.”  
  
  
Harry holds Louis around the hips with both hands then, holding him still as he pounds into him, his thumbs pressed against his hipbones. There will be bruises there later, but it’s worth it when Louis starts to moan for him. He doesn’t hold back anymore, crying out when the thick head of Harry’s cock drags over his sweet spot, again and again and _again_. Louis sighs in gratitude, feeling so good, he’s getting high off it.  
  
  
He feels like he’s _floating_.  
  
  
He wants Harry closer, but can’t find the words. He reaches out, hooking his little fingers around the silver chain that dangles from Harry’s neck, giving it a small tug. Somehow, Harry understands. He leans forward so their chests are aligned, hiking Louis’s legs up over his waist. “Better?” he whispers, kissing him sweetly.  
  
  
Louis nods, clinging to him. He thinks he would float away if Harry wasn’t keeping him tethered to the bed, safe and sound. Louis likes feeling safe.  
  
  
Harry is flushed where he hovers over him, panting as he grinds his hips. Louis feels so fucking good around him, clenched tight like a vice. He shudders at the feeling, watching Louis’s face as he fucks him. “Did you miss having me inside you, baby?” he murmurs.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, nodding his head.  
  
  
“I’ll bet you did,” Harry smiles, leaning in to nose at his throat. “Bet your little hole kept clenching on the toy, just wishing it was my cock.”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whines, flustered and overwhelmed by his dirty talk. It’s made worse when Harry thrusts into him, making Louis’s body jolt. He lets out a wail, ending in a shameless moan. He’s so _loud_ , but Harry loves it.  
  
  
Harry wraps his arms around his back then, keeping him close, holding Louis gently as he fucks him hard. He pulls him down onto his cock, frantically snapping his hips, and Louis’s mouth falls open, his eyes wide and adorably shocked. “ _Oh, oh – oh_ ,” he cries out, babbling, “oh – _yes_ , yes – Daddy – _fuck_.”  
  
  
Harry quickly shoves a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Louis’s cock, pumping him. “That’s it, baby, come for me,” Harry coaxes. “Come for Daddy.”  
  
  
Louis whines, his eyes clenched shut. His cock is positively _throbbing_ , aching and full and still so tender and overly-sensitive from his last two orgasms, pain blurring with pleasure.  
  
  
Harry grinds his hips, knocking _right_ into his prostate, his hand tugging frantically on Louis’s cock. “Wanna make you come again, baby, please,” Harry murmurs. “Want you to come all over yourself like a good boy, make a mess on your pretty tummy.”  
  
  
Louis shivers, choking out a sob as his cock spurts between them. He collapses back against the pillows, lying limp, his mind blanking into a peaceful, white fog.  
  
  
“ _Holy shit,_ ” Harry breathes, quickly pulling out. He rips the condom off his cock, tossing it to the floor. And he stares down at Louis, marveling.  
  
  
His body is limp on the bed, Harry’s t-shirt twisted around his torso, his small chest fluttering with each breath. Every inch of skin is hot and flushed, his tummy splattered with come. His fringe is messy and damp with sweat, and even though his eyes are open, they’re unfocused, staring blankly. _It worked_ , Harry thinks, gazing down at him in complete awe and wonderment. Louis’s mind had been slow and hazy all afternoon, but this was the final push – Harry actually fucked him into subspace.  
  
  
He can’t take his eyes off Louis, fucked out against the sheets, well beyond the typical ‘wrecked’ look he’s always had in the past. He pumps his hand over his cock, already so close it only takes a few pulls, and then he’s spilling onto Louis’s tummy, over his hips and thighs, white and warm and lovely.  
  
  
Louis finally starts to stir again at the feeling, having blanked out for a moment. “…Daddy?” he whispers, and he sounds so _small_.  
  
  
“m’here, baby,” Harry murmurs, already at Louis’s side. He wraps his arms around him, cradling him against his chest, his heart pounding like mad against his cheek. He kisses him all over – can’t stop kissing him – petting at his hips and nosing at his fringe. “That was _incredible_ , Louis,” he whispers down to him, speaking clearly. “You did so well. You were _so_ good for me, baby, I can’t even believe it.”  
  
  
Louis listens from where he’s tucked under Harry’s chin, quiet and small. “…I was good?” he asks, his voice full of wonder.  
  
  
“So good,” Harry reassures, pressing a kiss to his temple. “’m so proud of you, my good boy. Daddy’s _best_ boy.”  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whispers back, tearing up a bit, overwhelmed from Harry praising him.  
  
  
Louis starts to shiver then, almost violently, and Harry quickly pulls the blankets up over them both. He holds Louis close against his chest, transferring body heat and murmuring more praises, repeating himself as if he’s talking to a child, but he wants to make sure Louis _knows._  
  
  
“You’re so perfect, baby,” Harry whispers down to him, stroking Louis’s fringe. “You made me feel _so_ good.”  
  
  
Louis is absolutely _clinging_ to Harry, listening closely to every praise, depending on each one like a lifeline.  
  
  
“I love you so much, Louis,” Harry murmurs, his heart aching with how much he means it. “More than anything in this world, I love you.”  
  
  
Louis tears up even more at that. “Love you,” he whimpers, nosing at Harry’s chest.  
  
  
It’s amazing for Harry, seeing Louis like this, so fragile and depending on him so incredibly. He feels like the luckiest person alive, knowing he gets to take care of him, knowing that no one else actually could, because Louis would never respond like this to anyone other than Harry. It gives him a purpose. It’s such a powerful thing to have between them, charged and visceral, and it’s _theirs_. Theirs alone.  
  
  
Eventually, Harry has Louis settled enough to bring him back up, petting at his fringe. “Can you come back to me now, love?” he murmurs, kissing Louis’s cheek. “You’re so safe. We’re tucked in our bed, and I’ve got you, and you’re _safe_ with me. Gonna cuddle you all night.”  
  
  
Louis slowly starts to blink up at him, hazy.  
  
  
“That’s right, love. I’m right here,” Harry whispers. “Come back to me.”  
  
  
Soon, Louis does, his eyes sliding back into focus. And Harry smiles down at him. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis smiles back, still a little dazed, blushing a bit. “Hi.”  
  
  
  
  
Harry keeps holding him for a while, Louis cradled against his chest, his little hand curled over Harry’s collarbone. Harry knows he needs to get up, soon. He needs to slip down to the kitchen and get Louis some water. He kicks himself for not bringing some upstairs before they got started. He presses a kiss to the top of Louis’s head. “How are you feeling, love?”  
  
  
Louis sighs like a contented kitten. “Good,” he whispers. “Warm.” He’s so warm, safe where he’s tucked against Harry’s chest, feeling small and special and wanted.  
  
  
Harry bites his lip. “D’you think you could wait here while I—”  
  
  
“ _No_ ,” Louis whines, tightening his arms around him again.  
  
  
“I need to get you some water, baby,” Harry worries.  
  
  
“Please don’t go,” Louis whispers, “not yet.”  
  
  
That tugs on Harry’s heartstrings and he can’t help but smile, pulling Louis closer to nuzzle at his hair. “Alright, love,” he reassures. “m’not going anywhere.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s past midnight when Louis wakes up again. He’s still sleepy and blissed out but his bladder is nagging at him, full from all of the water Harry had him drink before he fell asleep. He really needs a wee. Carefully, he shuffles out from under Harry’s arm and rolls out of bed, tip-toeing across the carpet to the en-suite. When he comes back, Harry is awake. He blinks up at him in the dark, his brow furrowed.

  
  
Louis climbs back into bed, seeking Harry’s warmth under the sheets. “Hi,” he whispers, just a bit shy.  
  
  
“Hi,” Harry whispers back, and for some reason, he looks relieved to see him. He slides an arm around Louis’s waist. “You scared me,” he admits, chuckling a bit.  
  
  
“Hm? Why?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs. “When I woke up, the bed was empty. Thought I might have done something wrong earlier.”  
  
  
Louis just smiles and shakes his head, leaning in close to kiss Harry on the cheek. “You were perfect,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry’s shoulders relax, releasing the breath he was holding. “So…you liked it?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “Yeah,” he nods, “liked it a lot.” He’s a little embarrassed at the admission, his fingers tugging at the sheets. “It was nice to just let go for a while. And I felt really…like, vulnerable, I guess? But in a good way, like…I knew I was safe…knew you would take care of me.”  
  
  
Harry nods, leaning in to kiss his nose. “Always gonna take care of you.”  
  
  
Louis clears his throat. “Did you – uhm. How was it for you?”  
  
  
“ _God_ ,” Harry whispers, shaking his head. “You’ve no idea what that does to me, having you like that. I _loved_ it.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, flushing a bit, letting Harry press sleepy kisses against his forehead. It falls quiet again, their breathing evening out as sleep draws them back in. Louis rolls over with a yawn and Harry spoons up behind him, a perfect match.  
  
  
Louis wiggles his hips, wrinkling his nose. “’m _sore_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry smiles against his neck. “Sorry, baby.”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, Louis is standing in the kitchen, leaning against the worktop and snacking from an open bag of grapes. He likes the smallest ones the best, firm and deep in colour. He picks one from the vine, nibbling absently, his gaze held on the kitchen window. There’s a pigeon in the backyard, splashing around happily in the garden birdbath.  
  
  
It isn’t long before Louis hears footsteps on the kitchen tile, someone approaching from behind, slow and easy. He smiles when two tattooed arms wrap around his waist, holding him close. Harry buries his face in Louis’s shoulder to breathe him, nosing at the nape of his neck, where Louis’s scent is the strongest. He trails a line of kisses up his throat, sweet and indulgent, and slips his hands up under Louis’s shirt to touch skin, resting them low on his belly.  
  
  
He presses a kiss to the soft spot behind Louis’s ear, and then whispers something that makes Louis drop the grape he was holding.  
  
  
  
  
“Wanna get you pregnant.”  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....welp!
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me here: [louisweaterpaws.tumblr](http://louisweaterpaws.tumblr.com) :)


	12. Bare

 

  
  
  
So this was unexpected.  
  
  
Ever since Harry set that ‘three months until we try for a baby’ deadline, Louis has been meticulously, not-so-secretly counting down the days to the sixteenth of October, one by one, like a child checking off the calendar until Christmas. It’s a pretty clear testament to the fact that he really, _really_ wants a baby. Naturally, Louis knows very well that there are still another two weeks left until those three months will have passed. And so, it comes as a complete surprise when he finds himself standing frozen in the circle of Harry’s arms, with four little words ringing like bells inside his head.  
  
  
  
_Wanna get you pregnant._

  
  
  
Louis feels his heart skip several tiny beats, and wonders if he’s actually dreaming.  
  
  
Caught off guard, he spins around in the small space between the kitchen worktop and Harry’s body, looking up to meet his eyes, searching for confirmation. “You – _really?_ ”  
  
  
Harry nods, gazing down at him with a dimpled smile. “I know the three months isn’t quite up yet, but…” he bites his lip, hands settling on Louis’s hips. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”  
  
  
Louis quickly ducks out from under Harry’s arm then, his hand clenched in his shirt, tugging at it in attempts to pull him from the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom.  
  
  
Harry doesn’t move an inch, all thanks to their difference in size. He laughs, pulling Louis backward. “Woah, love. I think we can manage just a few more hours before bedtime. We haven’t even had dinner, yet.”  
  
  
Louis sighs in defeat, leaning back against the worktop. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, begrudgingly. “Fine.”  
  
  
Harry just smiles, unable to contain his fond. “No pouting.”  
  
  
Louis sticks out his tongue. “Why’d you have to go and tease me when I’m already so impatient about it?”  
  
  
Harry makes a cooing sound and pulls him into a hug, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Sorry, love,” he murmurs, hiding a smile against his hair. “Tonight, okay? I promise not to leave the bed until you’re satisfied.”  
  
  
Louis flushes slightly from where he’s tucked under his bicep, and pinches Harry’s stomach.  
  
  
They hear the garage door open then, and soon Liam and Zayn are filing into the kitchen, carrying several brown paper bags. Liam sets his armful down on the worktop, looking around at Harry. “Sorry, H, they didn’t have the olive oil you asked for, so we just picked up what was there.”  
  
  
“S’alright,” Harry shrugs, moving to help put away the groceries.  
  
  
Afterwards, they all start on making dinner: seafood linguine and garlic bread. Liam sits at the kitchen island, slicing a baguette into wedges while Zayn arranges them all onto a pan, adding the butter and chopped-up cloves of garlic on top. Meanwhile, Harry is at the stove, sautéing shrimp and scallops in a skillet, while Louis sits up on the worktop, watching him. He lightly kicks his feet against the cabinet underneath, hands folded in his lap. “You sure you don’t need help?”  
  
  
Harry hums, sprinkling a bit of seasoning onto the shrimp. “You could chop the tomatoes if you want? Just be careful not to cut yourself.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, hopping down from the worktop. Harry tends to baby him like that without even realising it at times, but it doesn’t actually bother Louis much. Even though he won’t always admit it, he likes to feel taken care of.  
  
  
He chooses two tomatoes from the produce bag and rinses them off under the tap, before carrying them over to the cutting board. Then he carefully dices them up with a knife, picks out the seeds, and scoops the pieces into a bowl. Once that’s finished, he walks back over to the stove. “Daddy,” he says, holding the bowl of tomatoes out for Harry, “is that enough?”  
  
  
Harry glances at it and nods, smirking a bit. “Perfect.”  
  
  
Over at the island, Liam and Zayn carry on with preparing the garlic bread, completely unfazed. By now, they’ve gotten used to Louis calling Harry _Daddy_ in front of them.  
  
  
The first time it happened was a few weeks ago at dinner, when Louis absentmindedly asked Harry, “could you pass the potatoes, Daddy?” Realising what he had said two seconds too late, Louis immediately panicked and flushed a deep red, while Zayn choked on a sip of water and Liam’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Harry, however, scooped some potatoes onto Louis’s plate for him as if nothing was amiss, although the look on his face was _quite_ smug.  
  
  
(Later that night, when he was wrapped up in Louis’s thighs, Harry was determined to reassure him that he rather liked being called _Daddy_ in front of the others. And ever since then, it became a regular thing.)  
  
  
Now, Louis climbs back up on the worktop and watches as Harry finishes cooking, occasionally handing him ingredients or utensils at Harry’s request. It’s funny, really, because in a lot of households it’s custom for subs to be left with the cooking and housework and ‘serving’ of their doms, but it’s not like that here. All four of them do their part to pitch in—particularly Harry when it comes to preparing meals. He’s a naturally good cook, and loves finding new recipes that he thinks Louis will like. And Louis feels so very lucky.  
  
  
They’re sharing kisses while they wait for the water to boil; Louis perched on the worktop, Harry’s hands on his thighs. “Love you, baby,” Harry murmurs, nuzzling at him.  
  
  
Louis has heard him say that so many times, the novelty probably should have worn off by now, but it still makes him smile embarrassingly. “You’re gonna burn the food if you don’t stop kissing me,” he whispers back.  
  
  
“Worth it,” Harry shrugs, grinning cheekily before stealing another kiss.  
  
  
  
Once the pasta is ready, Harry drains the water and adds the scallops and shrimp, stirring it all together in a pot with some white-wine sauce, the steam rising up in savory-smelling curls. They eat in the dining room as usual, Liam and Zayn on one side of the table and Harry and Louis on the other. Afterwards, once they’ve cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher, the four of them head to the den to watch a film.  
  
  
Liam plops down on the big couch in front of the TV, flipping through the pay-per-view channels for any new additions. Zayn curls up beside him with a yawn, tucking himself under his arm. He smiles when he feels Liam’s lips at the top of his head, and wraps his arms around his middle.  
  
  
Louis follows shortly into the den, padding barefoot on the carpet. “You didn’t pick another scary one, did you?”  
  
  
Liam shakes his head, his fingers stroking through Zayn’s hair. “ _The Avengers_.”  
  
  
_Typical_ , Louis thinks. Those two love their superhero movies. He lies down on the opposite sofa that sits against the far wall, waiting for Harry.  
  
  
He’s the last one out of the kitchen, turning out all the lights so that it’s dark in the den except for the wide screen television, flickering gently in shades of white and blue. He grabs some pillows and blankets from the wooden storage chest, tossing a few to Liam and Zayn before making his way over to the sofa. He smiles when he finds Louis there, curled up small at one end.  
  
  
“There enough room for me?” Harry murmurs, tucking a pillow under his head.  
  
  
Louis nods and scoots forward, letting Harry slide in behind him, so that he’s sandwiched between Louis and the backrest of the couch. He pulls Louis back against his chest and throws the blanket over them both, slotting their knees together. “He didn’t choose another horror film, did he?” Harry asks, gently, “I know how scared you were last time.”  
  
  
Louis tuts indignantly. “I was not _scared_.”  
  
  
“You wanted to sleep with the closet light on as a nightlight,” Harry points out.  
  
  
“That’s because it was too dark in our room. The moon wasn’t out that night.”  
  
  
“… _And_ you were clinging to me all night long,” Harry adds, smiling. “’Course I definitely wasn’t complaining about that.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “Wasn’t scared,” he insists, shaking his head. “I was just cold, and you’re always warm.”  
  
  
Harry laughs softly into the crook of his neck. “Alright, baby. You were cold,” he agrees, though he doesn’t sound at all convinced.  
  
  
“Shh,” Louis whispers, quick to change the subject, as Liam presses play and the opening credits begin to roll, “it’s starting.”  
  
  
So Harry doesn’t say anything else, cuddling Louis happily.  
  
  
  
The film is nice and all, but it’s not surprising when Louis ends up paying very little attention to it. He’s sort of…majorly distracted at the moment. All he can really think about is Harry’s promise for later, Harry taking him to bed – getting him _pregnant_.  
  
  
The thought of it has rarely left his mind all night.  
  
  
He feels antsy, and unsettled, like it’s taking everything he has just to lay still and relax. There’s so much nervous energy pent up inside of him, he doesn’t know what to do with it all. And it definitely doesn’t help that Harry is pressed so close from behind. He can feel his body heat, his hand resting low on Louis’s belly, fingers splayed out and tracing soft, slow circles. Harry _loves_ Louis’s belly.  
  
  
…And Louis wonders just how much more he’ll love it, once it’s all rounded out with his baby.  
  
  
It’s only twenty minutes into the film, and Louis keeps nibbling on his lip, his brow furrowed, lost in thought. Eventually, Harry ducks his head over his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “You alright?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis startles a bit, snapping out of it. “Yeah, m’fine,” he whispers back.  
  
  
Not fine. He thinks if Liam and Zayn weren’t lying just a few feet away he would roll over and hide his face in Harry’s chest, quietly ask to be taken right then and there on the couch. Instead, he tries for a more… _nonchalant_ approach.  
  
  
With a forced yawn, he shifts as if to make himself more comfortable, sitting up to fluff the pillow under his head. Then he lies back down and leans back against Harry, careful not to leave a single gap of space between their bodies this time. He tilts his hips a bit, hoping it will seem like a mere coincidence when his arse presses right up against Harry’s crotch.  
  
  
_God_ …Even when Harry is soft, Louis can still feel the bulge of his dick at the front of his joggers, warm and full. He keeps his bum pressed against it, occasionally shifting in tiny, imperceptible movements, feigning innocence.  
  
  
It doesn’t take long at all, before Harry’s cock starts to twitch.  
  
  
Harry makes a soft, slightly pained sound into the crook of Louis’s neck then, nosing up behind his ear. “You’re making me _hard_ , baby,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low so the others won’t overhear.  
  
  
Louis stills, his cheeks warm. “Sorry,” he whispers, scooting forward to give Harry space. He doesn’t want to force himself on him or anything.  
  
  
Harry doesn’t actually seem to mind, though, judging by the way his arm wraps around Louis’s middle, tugging him back against his cock. He goes straight for Louis’s neck, mouthing at it with gentle little suckling kisses, the film now entirely forgotten in the background.  
  
  
Louis considers it a win.  
  
  
He bites his lip when Harry starts to slowly buck his hips, dragging his bulge against the curve of Louis’s arse, seeking friction. And Louis shamelessly wiggles back, loving the feel of Harry getting hard for him.  
  
  
It’s ten degrees hotter under the blanket now, concealing the slow grind of their hips, Harry rocking forward, Louis pushing back. They could almost be fucking from behind, if it weren’t for their clothes. Harry’s mouth rests near the small spot behind Louis’s ear, his lips parted, letting out a few frustrated little gasps as Louis wiggles around on his dick. Louis _lives_ for those sounds.  
  
  
It’s a good thing the television in the den has surround sound, really. All of the dialogue, explosions, and overlying musical score from the film effectively drown out any of the hushed, telltale noises of their under the blanket dry-humping. Harry isn’t even trying to hide how horny he is now, holding Louis tight against his cock while he noses at his hair. “ _Baby_ ,” he whispers, slipping a hand up under Louis’s shirt to thumb at his little nipples.  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip to hold back a moan, and he really needs this film to end as soon as possible. He needs to get Harry alone, right now, immediately.  
  
  
  
When the last scene finally fades out and the ending credits appear, Louis pushes back the blanket and hops up from the couch, hastily adjusting himself to conceal his erection. Harry doesn’t even bother to do the same, leisurely stretching his arms up over his head. There’s just no hiding a bulge that big. Besides, they’re not exactly discreet when it comes to sexual manners around here (that sort of flew out the window when Louis started calling Harry _Daddy_ at the dinner table). And as it turns out, it doesn’t matter anyway, because Liam and Zayn are both fast asleep on the other couch, Zayn using Liam’s chest as a pillow.  
  
  
Harry smiles and flicks the telly off, and a sudden hush falls over the house, silent and still. He reaches for Louis in the dark, taking his hand. And then he leads him out of the den.  
  
  
  
Upstairs, they head straight for the en-suite to brush their teeth at the twin sinks, washing away the taste of garlic and pasta sauce. Then Harry starts to floss, and Louis cocks his hip against the counter, waiting and fidgeting. He’s so _impatient_. Not to mention, he’s still hard. And he knows Harry is doing this on purpose, making him wait some more. He suspects this is his punishment for teasing him on the couch.  
  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” Louis eventually whines, his hand tugging weakly at the back of Harry’s shirt. “Can’t you do that later?”  
  
  
Harry pauses, glancing at Louis in the mirror. “You should start flossing too, you know. It’s good for your gums.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, shifting on his feet. “I thought you’d be more concerned with certain _other_ parts of my body right about now.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry smirks, winding a fresh string of dental floss around his finger. “And which parts would those be?”  
  
  
Louis huffs out a breath, pointedly avoiding looking at his own reflection in the mirror. He hates how pitiful he looks right now. His face is flushed all over, and he knows he’s being really clingy and needy but _he can’t help it_. He’s been waiting for this for _months_. And somehow, these last few hours have felt like the longest, most agonizing wait yet.  
  
  
With a pout, he steps closer and curls his arms around Harry’s waist from behind, miserably nudging his forehead into his back. “m’hard,” he whispers after a moment, his voice small.  
  
  
Harry just smiles. “I can tell. When did that happen?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “I think…when you were kissing my neck?”  
  
  
Harry chuckles lowly, shaking his head. “Think it happened when you started _rubbing_ yourself on my cock, actually.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, guiltily. So maybe he wasn’t as nonchalant as he had hoped. Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore. At this point, it should be more than obvious what he wants.  
  
  
With his face still hidden in Harry’s back, he slowly drags his hand down over the slab of his abdomen, sliding lower. Feeling, searching. He finds what he’s looking for in a matter of seconds: Harry’s dick bulging out at the front of his joggers, still all stiff and fattened up. Louis cups it in his small hand, stroking him over the cotton. “Please, Daddy,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry’s cock gives an involuntary jolt against Louis’s palm at the word. It never fails to arouse him, being _Daddy_ for Louis. After all, it’s something only Harry can do. It makes him feel powerful, makes him want to take care of Louis in more ways than one, whether it’s cuddling him close to hold him together, or fucking him until he comes apart.  
  
  
Harry finally gives in then, tossing the dental floss back into the cabinet before turning to face the fussy, impatient boy behind him. He slides his hands down to his hips, still smirking a bit. “You’re rather eager tonight,” he says, observationally.  
  
  
Louis scowls. “It’s _your_ fault.”  
  
  
“Oh?” Harry quirks his brow in amusement. “I thought we’d already established it was yours?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “m’not talking about what happened on the couch,” he explains, his face hot. “I meant – what you said in the kitchen…” he trails off, looking away.  
  
  
Harry’s eyes soften then, the smirk on his face melting into a fond smile. He tips his chin, bringing their lips together, soft and sweet. “I meant it, you know,” Harry whispers between kisses, nosing at his cheek.  
  
  
Louis’s hand reaches out, uncertain, clenching in Harry’s t-shirt to keep him close, “…are you sure?”  
  
  
“’m very sure,” Harry nods. “I wanna start a family with you,” he murmurs, fingertips pressed into the small of Louis's back. He kisses him harder, deeper than before, sparks of heat between them now. “Wanna get you _pregnant_.”  
  
  
Louis makes a breathless, needy sound into his mouth at that and Harry doesn’t waste any more time, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of Louis’s pants before pushing them down over his thighs. They pool on the floor at his ankles and Louis quickly steps out of them, lifting his arms up so Harry can take off his shirt.  
  
  
Louis is naked now, goosebumps sprouting up along his arms. It’s always cold in the en-suite, but Harry keeps him warm. His hands slide down to the backs of his thighs, cupping just below his arse. He easily lifts him up and then spins around, setting Louis down on the marble countertop. Harry stands in the little V between his thighs, bringing their lips together again.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Louis grips at Harry’s t-shirt, tugging on it impatiently. He wants to get him out of his clothes, wants to touch skin. Harry breaks the kiss with a grin, pulling back a bit to let Louis undress him, pushing his shirt up and over his head, tossing it away. His little hands drift down to Harry’s hips then, thumbing at the laurel tattoos, and the light smattering of hair that trails down from his navel. He tugs at the drawstrings on his joggers until they’re loose and fall to the floor, followed by his boxers.  
  
  
Harry’s dick bobs free, slapping up against the inside of Louis’s thigh, big and blushing at the tip. Louis bites his lip at the sight. He kind of wants to put his mouth on it and suck, but that’s not what this is about. Not tonight. He settles for dragging a fingertip down the long line of Harry’s cock, blinking up at him from under his lashes. “Mine?” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry smiles, kissing his forehead. “Of course, baby,” he nods, “is that what you want?”  
  
  
Louis quietly nods his head, and Harry starts to dig around in the bathroom cabinet until he finds a spare bottle of lube, popping the cap. He pours some out onto his fingers, warming it up. Louis is still perched on the countertop, watching and waiting. When Harry moves to touch him, he scoots in close and wraps his arms around his neck. Then he parts his thighs, tilting his hips up to give Harry better access to his hole.  
  
  
Harry fingers him open easily, starting out slow before he works up a rhythm, pumping two digits in and out, dragging over Louis’s spot. Louis clings to Harry, flustered and turned on, his thighs trembling and his breath already hitching unsteadily just from being fucked with his fingers. Eventually, he gasps out, “ready, Harry, ‘m ready.”  
  
  
Harry pumps his fingers back in a few more times for good measure, making Louis whine for it, squirmy and impatient. Then he carefully pulls out, moving to root through one of the drawers again. He pauses midway, however, shaking his head. “Keep forgetting we don’t need a condom,” he says, chuckling a bit.  
  
  
And _oh_ – he’s right. Somehow in the midst of everything, that little detail had completely slipped Louis’s mind, too. He’s gone a bit pink at the thought, watching as Harry drizzles some lube directly onto his bare cock, slicking it up, palming himself. And suddenly Louis is feeling even _more_ impatient.  
  
  
Harry wipes his hand off on a spare towel and then pulls Louis closer so that his legs wrap around his back, feet crossed at the ankles. Louis feels the thick tip of Harry’s cock on the inside of his thigh then, nudging wetly, skin against skin. Harry nuzzles at his neck, lips brushing below his ear. “Haven’t fucked you bare since our first time,” he murmurs, and Louis _shivers_. “Remember?”  
  
  
Louis nods, nibbling at his bottom lip. “You pulled out that time…”  
  
  
“Mhmm,” Harry muses, pecking lightly at his neck.  
  
  
“…but you’re not going to this time?” Louis asks, hesitantly.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.” He moves up to kiss Louis’s temple. “You know I’ll give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”  
  
  
Louis hides in Harry’s shoulder, his face practically on fire, embarrassed by exactly _how much_ he wants, always struggling to voice it out loud. But Harry rubs soothing circles against his back to calm him, kissing his hair and whispering little words of reassurance. He’s so _gentle_. And Louis curls into him, burrowing further into the crook of his neck where it’s safe, before finally asking for it, his voice so very quiet and small, “…will you come inside me?”  
  
  
Harry _groans_ , loud and a bit desperate, nodding frantically. “Yeah, ‘course, baby, _God_ ,” he mutters senselessly, going at Louis’s neck. “Want that so much. Wanna claim you all over – everywhere. Make you mine all over again,” he murmurs, sounding almost pained, nipping eagerly at his pulse-point.  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, almost dizzy with Harry’s words, Harry’s lips on his neck. He thinks he might actually break into pieces if he doesn’t get it soon. “Bed,” he breathes, barely a whisper, pliant as Harry kisses him some more. “Take me to bed. Please?”  
  
  
Harry just nods and scoops him up from the counter, hurrying out of the en-suite with Louis still cradled in his arms. He makes a beeline for the bed, pulling back the duvet before gently setting Louis down. “Hands and knees, love,” he tells him, after dropping one last kiss to his hair.  
  
  
Louis scrambles to comply, crawling up towards the front of the bed, facing the headboard. He places his palms flat against the sheets, practically shaking in anticipation now.  
  
  
Harry follows after him, propped up on his knees, the mattress dipping under his weight. Louis can no longer see him, so his ears are trained on each individual noise instead. He can hear a slick sound and the slight hitch of breath, and he knows exactly what Harry’s doing: palming himself while he looks Louis over.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at the thought. He parts his thighs some more to give Harry a better view, and Harry swallows hard with lust as Louis’s little hole peeks out from between his cheeks, pink and smeared with lube.  
  
  
Harry scoots in closer, petting and rubbing at Louis’s arse, drinking in the sight of him. He grips himself around the base of his dick, and then jiggles his hand a bit, so that his cockhead is slapping wetly against Louis’s hole.  
  
  
“ _Oh!_ ” Louis squeaks, “oh – in, _in_ – please.”  
  
  
Harry spanks him, his palm dropping against Louis’s arse with a loud _smack_. Louis lets out a shocked gasp, his eyes wide. He stares down helplessly between his legs, feeling ashamed when a little bit of precome dribbles out from his pink slit, when Harry spanks him a second time. He’ll never understand why he likes it so much.  
  
  
Harry goes back to touching himself then, leaving Louis with nothing, his arse still stinging deliciously from his spanking. He wants _more_. Something – anything. He lets out an impatient whine and then arches his back, pushing his bum out – _presenting_. Trying to tempt Harry to hurry up and fuck him already. He’s not sure how much longer he can wait.  
  
  
But Harry just shushes him, kneading at his arse with one hand, stroking his cock with the other. “Patience, love. Daddy just wants to look at you some more," he says, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his hole. "You’re very pretty like this, you know.”  
  
  
And Louis tucks his lip between his teeth to keep quiet, letting Harry tease him some more. He’s slow about it, taking his time. He slides his cock up and down between Louis’s arsecheeks, tracing tempting little circles around his hole, making his rim flutter and clench around nothing, eager for it. And yeah, Louis thinks, this is _definitely_ his punishment for teasing Daddy’s cock on the couch. The fat tip keeps catching on his rim, and Louis is so fucking gone for it he’s about ready to beg. “Please,” he whispers, his head bowed. “I can’t – _please_.”  
  
  
“Poor baby,” Harry murmurs, his hand rubbing at Louis’s hip. “Need me to fuck you? Let you come on my cock?”  
  
  
Louis hides his flaming face in his arm, so turned on just from Harry’s voice, and how easily he talks to him like this – _dirty_ talk.  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry prompts, lazily slapping his cockhead against Louis’s hole, again.  
  
  
Louis nods, his eyes clenched shut. “Wanna come,” he whispers. “Please? Fuck me, Daddy.”  
  
  
He could almost cry in relief when he feels the tip of Harry’s dick start to prod at his rim, so ready to be filled and fucked raw for the first time in nearly _three whole months_. Harry has one hand against the small of Louis’s back, holding him steady while the other hand grips his cock around the base, nudging forward. His cock slips in with ease, wrapped up so perfectly tight and wet and warm inside Louis’s body, and Harry hisses in pleasure, his eyes falling closed. “ _Fuck,_ baby,” he breathes, “almost forgot how good you feel like this.”  
  
  
Louis sighs dazedly, adjusting to the stretch. “You feel good, too,” he whispers, wiggling back against him, “like, _really_ good.” And it’s true – it feels so much better without having any sort of barrier between them. Somehow, Harry seems even bigger like this. Louis can feel each and every ridge and vein and curve of his cock, _pulsing_ , the skin smooth and hot to the touch.  
  
  
Harry takes his time at first, moving with slow, shallow pumps of his hips, watching his bare cock slide in and out of Louis, and reveling in the way it feels. Beneath him, Louis has his head bowed, his eyes closed, his mouth open, letting out soft little sounds with each slow drag of Harry’s dick inside him, filling him up so nice. “Missed this,” Louis sighs, his breathing quickening, “can’t believe we only tried it once.”  
  
  
Harry increases the pace of his thrusts then – _just_ slightly – making Louis moan for it, low and indulgent. And Harry smirks, wetting his lips. “You can have it like this from now on, Louis. Whenever you want.” He holds him round the hips, pulling him back hard onto his cock. “Gonna fuck you raw every night. Gonna get you _pregnant_.”  
  
  
Louis lets out a high whine, getting more and more flustered and worked up from Harry’s dirty talk, frustrated at the too-slow pace of his thrusts. “More,” Louis gasps out, needily pushing his arse back against him, fucking himself on his cock, “more, more – please.”  
  
  
Harry spanks him again, three quick slaps, making Louis cry out in a way that sounds a lot more pleasured than pained. “Don’t be greedy, baby,” Harry tells him, gently. “Remember what I told you about good boys?”  
  
  
Louis stills then, his cock positively aching between his thighs. He nods his head, “…good boys are patient,” he whispers.  
  
  
“That’s right,” Harry smiles. “Now, be good for me and let me take care of you. I’m gonna make you come, baby, I promise.”  
  
  
Louis nods again, “…sorry, Daddy.”  
  
  
“Don’t apologise,” Harry murmurs. He rubs at his hip, placating. “You just can’t help it, can you? Need it so much?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Need _you_.”  
  
  
Harry leans forward then, rewarding Louis with a kiss behind the ear. “My sweet boy,” he praises, and Louis shudders.  
  
  
Both of Harry’s hands lock around his hips then, holding Louis still as he starts to fuck him, hard and fast and without warning. Louis’s eyes widen in shock, letting out a startled gasp that turns into a drawn-out moan.  
  
  
“Oh – oh my _god_ ,” he breathes, throwing his head back, “yes, yes – _fuck_.” His fingers twist in the sheets, his dick heavy and swollen where it’s bouncing between his legs. That feeling of nagging, frustrated need almost immediately fades into a fuzzy, mind-numbing goodness that he can only get from being fucked with Harry’s cock. And Louis mewls in gratitude, parting his thighs for more. “ _Daddyyy_.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry pants, bucking his hips. “You like that?”  
  
  
Louis just nods, moaning prettily for Harry, urging him on. Harry loves hearing Louis in bed, wants to know he’s keeping him more than satisfied. It strokes his ego a bit, knowing how hard he can make Louis orgasm. However, he knows there’s one more foolproof way to have Louis moaning and whimpering even _louder_. Determined to find it, he thrusts hard into Louis and stays there, his hips pressed tight to his arse, filling him up with his cock. Then he swivels his hips in tight little circles, looking and searching…until Louis lets out the most beautiful, devastated cry.  
  
  
“ _Oh!_ Oh – right there. _There_ , Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry grins in triumph, careful to fuck into that very spot, determined to keep Louis gagging for it like that. The blunt head of Harry’s cock knocks _right_ into his prostate and Louis’s mouth falls open on a silent scream, his mind blanking into bliss. His arms give out, his whole body going limp, collapsing weakly against the mattress. Harry hikes his arse up higher, absolutely _pounding_ into him, frantically bucking his hips. And Louis is wailing now, _so fucking loud_.  
  
  
Harry feels euphoric all over when Louis gets loud like this, deriving even more pleasure just from knowing how well he's pleasing Louis. He keeps up that same rhythm, his thumbs pressed into the dimples at the base of Louis’s spine. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he whispers down to him, breathing laboured. “For me to fuck you like this?”  
  
  
Louis mewls, nodding his head.  
  
  
“Yeah? You like being fucked from behind?”  
  
  
Louis goes red, hiding his face as he nods again. “Yes,” he gasps, sounding a bit wrecked. “Like it, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry tightens his hands around Louis’s hips then, pulling him down hard onto his cock, watching his arse jiggle each time it slaps against his hipbones, hard enough to bruise. Harry tends to be gentle in bed, and Louis loves when it’s gentle, but sometimes, like tonight, Harry just knows when Louis _wants_ it rough. He’s gasping into his folded arms, a broken little chant of “ _uh – uh – uh_ ” and “ _Daddy_ ” that’s driving Harry crazy.  
  
  
“ _God_ , you’re so fucking perfect,” Harry pants, gritting his teeth. “So _tight_.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at the praise, his skin glowing from the low moans of approval Harry keeps making. He feels so _used_ in the best possible way, his back curved obscenely, face down with his arse hiked up in the air, letting Harry fuck him from behind, jostling his limp little body up the bed each time he pulls back and thrusts back in. Louis secretly loves being manhandled like this.  
  
  
The only downside of this position is that he can’t kiss Harry, can’t see his face.  
  
  
As if he read his mind, the next thing Louis knows, Harry pulls out and quickly flips Louis over, so that he collapses on his back, his head hitting the pillows. And then Harry crawls up between his thighs and kisses him, a messy clash of tongues, as he lines himself up at Louis’s hole and sinks back into him again.  
  
  
They both break the kiss on a gasp, flushed and panting, breathing the same air. Louis’s thighs are trembling with the need to come, and he locks them up around Harry’s waist, pulling him in deeper. “M’close,” he whimpers, his cock leaking onto his tummy.  
  
  
“Me, too,” Harry nods, breathing shakily. “You don’t even know how good you feel right now.”  
  
  
Louis leans forward, kissing him again. “Touch me,” he pleads, wet against his lips. “Make me come.”  
  
  
Harry easily complies, getting a hand between them to wrap around Louis’s cock. He strokes him gently, rubbing at the tip, swirling his thumb through the wetness there, making Louis shiver and shake with it. Then he tilts his hips, so that he’s pressed right up against Louis’s spot, fucking into him slow and deep.  
  
  
Louis’s head drops back against the pillows, whining with how good it feels. “Fuck – _close, close_ – don’t stop – please don’t stop,” he gasps, babbling.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Never gonna stop, baby. Wanna watch you.”  
  
  
Harry fucks into him hard, his cockhead nudging against Louis’s prostate and his hand still tugging gently on his cock, coaxing him into an orgasm. And Louis clutches at Harry’s biceps, panting, his face screwed up in the best way. “Oh – oh god, _I’m_ _coming_.”  
  
  
Harry watches, mesmerized as Louis shivers with it, crying out as his cock spurts between them, splattering all over his belly, so pretty when he comes. And Harry groans, his hips speeding up again at the sight. He can feel his own orgasm building at the base of his spine, his balls tightening up with it. But fuck, it just feels so good, he doesn’t even want to _stop_. He’s not used to fucking Louis bare like this; he’s used to that barrier being in the way, to pulling out before he can truly finish. It’s never been like this before, where he can just keep pushing forward and drive all the way home, wrapped up so perfectly in Louis’s body until he can finally let go and just come and come and _come_.  
  
  
Louis is getting sensitive now, his cock limp against his hip, but he doesn’t complain as Harry keeps fucking him, panting harshly, his eyes dark. He buries his face in Louis’s neck, nipping possessively at his throat. “Gonna come in you,” he gasps out, “gonna fill you up. Get your tummy all full with my baby.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers, parting his thighs for him some more.  
  
  
Harry hovers over him, his hands planted flat on the bed, still rutting his hips, dragging his cock in and out. He’s so close to coming he’s almost _trembling_ with it, but he just keeps _going_ , can’t stop.  
  
  
Louis reaches his hands up to cradle Harry’s head, soothing, tucking a few locks of hair back from his face, damp with sweat. Their eyes meet and Louis leans up to catch his lips, pecking sweetly. “Come in me,” he whispers. “Please, Harry, I want it. Want you to come inside me.”  
  
  
Harry practically whimpers, his hips knocking hard into Louis’s, stuttering recklessly. He slams his fist down against the mattress, “Louis – _baby_ – fuck.”  
  
  
“Go on, Harry,” Louis noses gently at his cheek, coaxing him. “Come in me.”  
  
  
And then Harry’s rough pants turn into a gasp of surprise and he’s – he’s _coming_ , his whole body wracked with it and his cock pulsing hard where it’s nestled deep inside of Louis, spurting streams of come. Louis’s eyes widen at the feeling, wet and warm and full and strangely _good_ – enough to get him hard again if his dick wasn’t already spent.  
  
  
“Holy shit,” Harry whispers in awe, looking dazed, his eyes clouded over with bliss. His arms are shaking with exertion but he manages to hold himself up, doesn't want to collapse onto Louis's small body. It takes him a while to recover, still breathing heavily, but he kisses Louis, slow and drawn-out. “That was fucking amazing,” he breathes. “I mean, it’s always amazing with you, but _fuck_.”  
  
  
Louis smiles and bites his lip, blushing a bit. He leans up to kiss Harry’s cheek, dragging his lips towards his ear. “Think I can feel you leaking out of me.”  
  
  
Harry shivers and groans. “God, baby, please don’t get me hard again. I haven’t even pulled out, yet.”  
  
  
Louis laughs, stroking his hands up through Harry’s hair again. “You’re right, though. That was…wow.”  
  
  
Harry grins, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods, and then they’re kissing again, sweet and indulgent, drops of sweat still dotting Harry’s back, cooling against his skin. He stays inside of Louis for a while before finally pulling out, his cock limp and tender and wet with come. He grabs a flannel to clean them up a bit, but Louis can still _feel_ Harry – in more ways than one. He doesn’t tell him that, of course, because he knows it will get him hard again and he’s too sore for another round.  
  
  
Harry seems happy just to cuddle Louis, though, rubbing at his belly and pressing soft kisses behind his ear, until they drift off to sleep.  
  



	13. Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: as per the title, lots of daddy kink in this one.

  
  
A few days pass, and the weekend comes to an end with a lazy Sunday, spent having a lie-in around the house.  
  
  
For some inexplicable reason, Louis is feeling sort of restless.  
  
  
There’s something nagging at him under his skin. All day long, he’s felt it. Like he can’t sit still, can’t figure out what it is that he wants. It isn’t food, and it isn’t even _sex_ , really. It’s a yearning for something he can’t quite put a name to. He just wants _something_ , but…what? He won’t be able to get it if he doesn’t know what it is, and not knowing is driving him mad.  
  
  
He’s downstairs in the kitchen, now. He felt far too unsettled lying in bed and wandered downstairs to busy himself, putting the kettle on. Maybe some tea will help. He stacks two steaming mugs onto a tray and then goes to put the milk away, and that’s when it hits him – literally. The refrigerator door bumps him in the arse and… _oh_. That’s it.  
  
  
He wants to be _spanked_.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at the realisation, feeling his face heat up with a blush. He gathers up the tea tray before heading upstairs, careful not to spill anything. Minutes ago, when he first came downstairs, his mind was all over the place – scattered and aimless and uncertain. Now, it’s focused on one thing and one thing only.  
  
  
He pushes open the bedroom door and finds Harry right where he left him, lying on the bed over top of the duvet, his back propped up against the pillows, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama pants. He’s watching some war documentary on the telly, his arms stretched up behind his head.  
  
  
All Louis can think when he looks at him is _Daddy_.  
  
  
He sets the tea tray down on the bedside table and Harry gives him a smile when he spots the second mug. “Thanks, love.”  
  
  
Louis just nods and climbs back into bed. He lies on top of Harry, feeling clingy and wanting cuddles…and hopefully something else. He hikes a thigh up over his hips and rests his head on his chest, arms wrapped around his middle. Harry drops a kiss to the top of his head, and Louis feels very small like this.  
  
  
His bottom aches with the need to be spanked.  
  
  
Harry lowers one of his arms, sliding it down Louis’s back before coming to rest at his hip. It’s so close to where Louis wants it to be. He closes his eyes, imagines that same hand striking his arse until it’s red and hot and stinging, in the best possible way. Inside, he feels a mixture of shame and embarrassment, and underneath them both, _excitement_. There is shame, because he still doesn’t understand why he gets so hard from Harry spanking him, and there is excitement, because Harry _always_ takes care of Louis when he needs something, always gives him what he wants.  
  
  
The only problem is that Louis doesn’t always know how to _ask_ for what he wants.  
  
  
He’s definitely never asked to be spanked, before.  
  
  
He thinks he’s starting to _crave_ it.  
  
  
Harry hasn’t said anything in a while, focused on his television programme. Louis feels bad for interrupting when he curls his hand around his collarbone and whispers, “Daddy?” up at him.  
  
  
Harry doesn’t take his eyes off the TV, but his hand gives Louis’s hip a little squeeze. “Hm? What is it, baby?”  
  
  
_Baby_. Louis loves when Harry calls him that.  
  
  
He wants to be spanked so much.  
  
  
He gnaws at his lip, feeling the words fizzle out and die in his throat. He can’t possibly ask for something like this – it’s _way_ too embarrassing. He thinks maybe he could tempt a spanking as a punishment out of Harry by doing something bad, start touching himself or something. But that sounds even more embarrassing, and he really doesn’t want to leave the comfort of Harry’s chest. Above all, he just wants to be _good_ for Harry, and it's especially conflicting when he also wants something that he only gets when he's been bad.  
  
  
“Erm – nevermind,” he eventually mutters, losing his nerve.  
  
  
Harry knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t pressure him about it. Instead, he reaches for the remote, flicking the telly off to give Louis his full attention. He rubs soft circles against the small of his back and noses at his hair, patient and gentle as always, cradling Louis like he’s made of porcelain, making him feel little and loved. “You can tell me,” he whispers. “It’s just me, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis pushes his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, his eyes clenched shut. He really, really wants Harry to spank him. He shakes his head, suddenly very shy.  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound, waiting patiently until Louis is ready. He just keeps petting at his back, until his hand smooths down and rests on Louis’s bottom, patting gently, and Louis actually _whimpers_.  
  
  
Harry pauses at that, considering, “…you want me to fuck you?” he asks, trying to make sense of Louis’s signals.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “No,” he whispers, voice small against Harry’s throat, "...well, maybe later, but – want something else first.”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. Their tea has gone cold by now, but neither of them seem to notice or care. “Want me to put your plug in?” Harry offers, another guess.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “I – it’s something you _do_ to me,” he stammers, his face hot, “like…when I’ve been bad.”  
  
  
It dawns on Harry then, a light bulb going on over his head. “ _Oh_ ,” he whispers, swallowing hard. “You…want me to spank you?” he asks, clarifying.  
  
  
Louis’s face is burning where it’s hidden in Harry’s neck. He nods, slowly. _So embarrassing._  
  
  
Harry pulls back to reassure him, peppering his face with kisses. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Anything you want, remember?”  
  
  
Louis exhales the breath he was holding, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “Thank you,” he whispers, still avoiding Harry's gaze.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, rubbing at Louis’s back. “Don’t have to thank me, m’always gonna take care of you.” He kisses Louis again and then pauses, glancing around. “How do you want it?” he asks, speaking slow and careful, making sure everything is to Louis's exact specifications. “Want me to put you over my lap?”  
  
  
Louis thinks about it. And actually, he really likes the position they’re in right now, likes how small he feels cradled against Harry’s chest. “Erm, could we maybe just stay like this?”  
  
  
Harry nods. “Of course, baby. You want to leave your joggers on or take them off?”  
  
  
Louis nibbles at his lip. He _adores_ how patient Harry is with him. “Uhm, joggers off. And...I’ll leave my pants on at first but could you, like…take them off of me? During? Like…when _you_ want them off?” he whispers, his eyes squeezed shut, trying to explain and hoping Harry will understand.  
  
  
Amazingly, Harry does. “’course, baby,” he nods, sliding his hands down to Louis’s waistband. “Lift up.”  
  
  
Louis raises his hips and Harry pushes his joggers down and off, so that he’s left in a t-shirt and briefs. Then he lies back down on top of Harry, straddling one of his thighs, his bum poking out a bit and his prick already getting hard between his legs. He noses at Harry’s bare chest, inhaling the warm skin tinged with cologne, getting more and more worked up as Harry’s hands rub at the small of his back, _just_ above the curve of his arse.  
  
  
“Such a good boy,” Harry whispers, and goosebumps sprout up at the nape of Louis’s neck. He really wants to be spanked. Harry keeps murmuring down to him, petting. “Could have just been bad to get what you want, couldn’t you? But you decided to ask for it nicely instead. You’re so perfect.”  
  
  
Louis shudders at the praise, hiding his face in Harry’s chest, shy. “Daddy,” he whispers back.  
  
  
Harry drops a kiss to his hair. “How many do you want, baby?”  
  
  
“Uhm,” he whispers, uncertain, “I…dunno.”  
  
  
Harry makes a sound of disapproval. “You know I don’t like that, Louis. I need you to tell me.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “But – I don’t know how many it will take…”  
  
  
Harry’s brow furrows in confusion at first, but then he understands. He bites back a smirk, “…you want me to spank you ‘til you come?”  
  
  
Louis really, _really_ does. He keeps his face hidden against Harry's chest and nods his head, just once.  
  
  
Harry smiles, “alright, then.” He keeps his left hand on the small of Louis’s back to steady him, raising the other hand in the air. “You ready?”  
  
  
_Yes, yes, finally,_ Louis thinks but doesn’t say it. He just nods, bracing himself. _  
_  
  
Harry’s hand falls, the smack dulled a bit through cotton briefs, but Louis’s entire body still gives a jolt, coming alive all at once. He’s in fucking heaven. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he whispers, mouth falling open on a whine when Harry spanks him again, harder.  
  
  
“Oh _thank you_ ,” Louis whispers in a sigh of gratitude, lying pliant and still across Harry’s chest as he strikes his arse, over and over again. It’s everything he wants, everything he’s been _craving_ , and it feels _so_ fucking good.  
  
  
Harry pauses a few times just to grope and knead at his arse, petting at him over his briefs, touching and feeling as he pleases, and Louis feels helpless, and _claimed_ , like he belongs to Harry – his Daddy. And it’s the best feeling in the world, to cling to Harry, and need him so much, and know that he’s _his_. He’s the only one in the world who gets to have Harry like this.  
  
  
_Daddy_.  
  
  
Louis is _moaning_. He’s nuzzling against his Daddy’s chest, practically worshipping him while he gives him his spanking, taking such good care of him, and it’s all so _naughty_ , and that’s turning Louis on more than anything. His dick is hard where it’s trapped against Daddy’s thigh, and he can feel a little wet patch on the inside of his briefs where he’s leaked.  
  
  
Harry ducks his head to press a kiss to Louis’s hair. “My good boy.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, getting praised and spanked at the same time. “My Daddy,” he whispers back.  
  
  
Harry smiles, kissing at his ear. “God, you’re getting so _horny_ , aren’t you, baby? I can feel it on my thigh.”  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip to hold in a whine. He’s completely and utterly defenseless when Harry starts talking to him like this, helpless against how much it turns him on. And Harry _knows_ it. He hums against his ear. “Bet you’re already wet, too.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and closes his eyes, feeling more and more precome leaking out from his slit, soaking through his briefs as Harry’s hand keeps falling against him in a nice, steady rhythm, one after another, holding him still as he spanks his arse.  
  
  
“Can’t even believe you’re real,” Harry marvels down at him, “getting so hard from being spanked.”  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound against his chest, a little loop of _uh, uh, uh_ falling from his lips with every slap, his limp little body being jostled forward a bit over Harry’s chest each time his hand collides with his arse. Louis moans, arching up into it.  
  
  
He’s getting so _hard_ , cock swelling up inside his briefs.  
  
  
Harry gives his arse another swat and then stops, hooking his thumbs under Louis’s waistband, knowing exactly what he needs. “Let’s get you out of these, love. Lift up for me.”  
  
  
Louis raises his hips, wrinkling his nose at the loss of pressure against his dick when Harry’s thigh is no longer pressed up against it. Harry tugs at his pants, and Louis whimpers when the wet patch drags over his sensitive tip.  
  
  
Louis’s dick bobs free and pokes up towards his tummy, wet at the tip. Harry stares down at it, the corner of his lips quirking up in a grin. “Looks like I was right,” he murmurs, and Louis flushes all over.  
  
  
Harry reaches out to swipe his thumb over Louis’s cockhead, where his slit is all pink and slick and shiny. He gathers some of the pearly wetness onto the pad of his thumb, and Louis watches as he sucks it into his mouth.  
  
  
Harry hums approvingly around his thumb, pulling it from his lips. “You taste so sweet, baby.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers. He wants Harry to spank him some more but he’s still holding himself up, waiting for permission. He gets it when Harry pats his thigh, signaling for Louis to lie back down against him.  
  
  
Louis does, straddling Harry’s thigh again. The air in the room is cool against his bare bottom. Harry steadies him once more with a hand against his back, and then his other hand starts striking Louis’s arse again, only this time, it’s skin against skin, the blows landing with a fleshy _smack_ that reverberates around the room.  
  
  
Louis lets out a squeak, curling his arms around Harry’s middle. It’s so much nicer without his briefs on. His arse is starting to tingle pleasantly under Harry’s palm, and he mewls for it, wanting more.  
  
  
“Is that better, baby?” Harry murmurs, pressing kisses behind Louis’s ear, gentle compared to the way he’s roughly spanking him.  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” Louis whispers appreciatively, pushing back into Harry’s hand.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry whispers. “You like getting spanked, don’t you, baby?”  
  
  
Louis clenches his eyes shut, his face flaming. He always gets so ridiculously shy and flustered when Daddy whispers dirty things in his ear like this, his voice all low and rough, smirking because he _knows_ how much it’s turning Louis on.  
  
  
Louis is whimpering prettily now, clinging to Daddy while he’s getting spanked. He can feel his arse jiggling under his palm and he knows Daddy likes that, too. Between his legs, his cock is so stiff and hard, still trapped against Harry’s thigh. He feels it twitch each time Daddy’s hand comes down on him, weeping at the tip. It’s naughty, his dick getting wet from his spanking. He wants to grind, wants to rut against Daddy’s thigh until he comes all over himself. His hips twitch with the urge to _move_ , but he tries to keep still, not sure what’s allowed.  
  
  
It must be obvious that he’s struggling, because the next thing he knows, Harry kisses behind his ear. “Baby, is your cock getting sore?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound. “You can rub it on my thigh, baby. I don’t mind. Just move your hips. Grind on me.”  
  
  
Louis’s breath hitches, relieved, and he starts to rock his hips, needing friction. The cotton is so soft against his dick, getting wet with precome. Daddy keeps spanking him, slow and steady, spanks him ‘til his arse is all hot and flushed and stinging. And it hurts, but it’s a good sort of pain, the kind that has Louis’s eyes wet with tears. He’s barely even conscious of himself anymore, too focused on feeling so bad and so _good_ at the same time. He needs to come. He’s sobbing with it.  
  
  
Harry loves how worked up he’s getting, so flustered and desperate, needing him so much. He knows exactly what Louis needs to make him come, knows that he wants _Daddy_ , wants Harry to keep talking to him, coaxing him through it. He brushes Louis’s fringe back from his forehead, watching as he needily bucks his hips, practically humping him, panting and shivering, his lips pink and open, letting out frustrated little sighs.  
  
  
Harry leans in to kiss his temple. “Wish you could see yourself. All worked up from your spanking,” he murmurs, his voice low. “You’re making me so fucking hard, baby. Rubbing your cock on Daddy’s thigh like this, needing to come so bad. Like a little boy who can’t help himself.”  
  
  
Louis makes a destroyed sound at that, moaning when Harry spanks him again. “Daddy – _oh_ – m’close,” he whispers desperately, that familiar feeling coiling low in his tummy.  
  
  
Harry kisses under his ear, still whispering, low and _filthy_. “That’s naughty, baby. Coming from being spanked. How am I ever supposed to punish you if you like it so much?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and bites his lip. He’s embarrassed and a little ashamed but he’s getting off on it, rutting on Daddy’s thigh. Harry puts both hands on his arse, groping and petting, the skin hot and swollen under his palms. And then Louis is being spread open with two fingers, and Daddy spanks him again, _right_ over his hole, sending a dull pressure straight to his prostate, like he’s being spanked and fucked at the same time.  
  
  
“Oh – _oh fuck_ – Daddy – gonna come,” Louis gasps, his hips jerking frantically.  
  
  
Harry spanks over his little hole again, hard and fast. “Yeah? Gonna come on Daddy’s thigh?”  
  
  
Louis lets out a wrecked sob. For some reason, Harry referring to _himself_ as Daddy gets to him more than anything. He whimpers and nods, rocking his hips and pushing his arse out, letting Harry spank him some more. He’s so _close_.  
  
  
“Go ahead and come, baby, it’s okay,” Harry murmurs. “You're gonna feel _so_ good. I'll even fuck you after, if you want. I know how much you like it when I fuck you after a spanking, when your arse is all pretty and pink and sore.”  
  
  
Louis is whimpering quietly now, overwhelmed and crying a bit, feeling so much all at once, so close to coming his cock is starting to pulse.  
  
  
Harry kisses his cheek. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I've got you."   
  
  
He spanks Louis one last time and Louis cries out, his body seizing up like a spring, and then his cock is spurting hard between them, mouth dropping open on a wail.  
  
  
After, he collapses against Harry’s chest, his eyes wet with tears, while Harry kisses his hair and rubs his back, whispering in Louis’s ear, telling him how good he was for him, and how loved he is. He’s careful to be extra gentle with Louis after being so rough.  
  
  
Louis is more than grateful. Once he’s collected himself, he slides down Harry’s chest, coming to rest between his legs. He’s pleased to find Daddy’s cock is all big and stiff where it bulges out at the front of his joggers, loves knowing he must have gotten hard just from spanking Louis, and watching him rut and cry and come. He feels special, and wanted, and it’s made even better when he starts to mouth at Harry’s fat dick through his joggers and is rewarded with a low moan, Daddy reaching out to stroke at his hair, urging him to continue.  
  
  
He eagerly peels back his pants and Harry’s cock bobs up, thick and full and slapping against Louis’s cheek. “Daddy,” he whispers, staring unabashedly, still a little in awe of how _big_ Harry is. He wraps a tentative hand around the base, glancing up at him. "Can I?" he asks.  
  
  
Harry bites his lip and nods, his pupils wide and blown. He can't even believe Louis is asking for _permission_ to suck his cock. But Louis always gets like this after a spanking, so pliant and shy and soft and _submissive_. The urge to cuddle him is almost overwhelming but - later. Definitely later.  
  
  
Louis scoots in closer, puts his mouth on the tip and starts to suck, just like Harry taught him. And Harry hisses out a breath, his head tipping back against the pillows. “ _God,_ baby,” he whispers, his lashes fluttering to a close.   
  
  
Louis lights up at that. He loves it when Harry whispers down to him while he sucks his cock, loves knowing he’s doing a good job, even though he isn’t very experienced in the matter. He licks and he sucks and he's still a bit clumsy about it, but Harry cradles his head with his hand, guiding him into the rhythm he likes, his thumb brushing behind Louis's ear. He lets out a satisfied sigh, _just like that, baby_ , his breath hitching a bit, and Louis loves that sound.   
  
  
He slips his hand up under Harry’s dick and cradles his balls, rolling them gently in his palm, knowing how much Daddy likes that. It always makes him groan low in his throat, makes his thighs tremble and shake. His hips start twitching with the urge to move but he keeps still, careful not to fuck up into Louis’s mouth. Louis is still fairly new at this, and he doesn’t want to gag him. Harry is always so gentle, and considerate, and Louis wants to make him come.  
  
  
Louis keeps mouthing at the tip of his cock, slurping and suckling wetly, lapping up the precome and bobbing his head, and Harry moans, _my good boy_ , petting at his hair. It makes Louis’s skin glow, knowing that he’s being so good. It’s all he ever wants.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Later, Louis has his face buried in his folded arms, trying to catch his breath. His belly is wet with come from two separate orgasms, his cock limp between his legs. Harry is still on top of him, their thighs pressed together front to back, Harry’s arms looped around Louis’s middle, holding him close to his chest. He drops his forehead against Louis’s shoulder with a grunt, breathing shakily as he slowly pumps his hips, still fucking him from behind.  
  
  
“ _Baby_ ,” he groans, dropping an open-mouthed kiss to the nape of Louis’s neck, damp with sweat.  
  
  
Louis shivers, extra sensitive when the tip of Harry’s cock brushes up against his prostate again. His prick gives a feeble twitch, too spent to get fully hard. He doesn’t mind, though. In fact, he likes this part of sex – when he’s already come a few times but Harry hasn’t come at all yet, leaving Louis tired and hazy from an orgasm while Harry just keeps fucking him, needing release. Harry used to ask if it was okay for him to keep going, offering to pull out and finish himself off with his hand if it got to be too much for Louis. By now, he knows Louis likes it. It makes him feel tingly and oversensitive, but he likes it.  
  
  
Harry is still careful about some things though, always wary that he could end up hurting Louis. That’s why his movements have slowed, his rhythm shifting from a hard pounding to a steady rock of his hips.  
  
  
Louis sighs dreamily into the crook of his arm, his head fuzzy. He peeks over his shoulder at Harry and sees the look of concentration on his face – like he’s reminding himself to hold back. Louis doesn’t like that. He arches his back, pushing his arse against him. “You can do it harder, if you want…” Louis whispers, soft and suggestive.  
  
  
Harry falters, his hips stilling, looking back at him. “You – are you sure?” He slides his hand down Louis’s chest, through the wetness on his tummy. “You’ve already come twice.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “I like it. Besides,” he pushes his face into the crook of his arm again, his cheeks warm. “I don’t want you to just get off…I want you to come. Like, really hard.”  
  
  
Harry doesn’t need telling twice. He drops his forehead against Louis’s back, tightening his arms around him. “Just – tell me if it gets to be too much,” he quickly warns, and then he starts fucking Louis, hard and fast.  
  
  
Louis’s whole body shudders, overly sensitive with shock as his prostate is nailed dead-on again and again, his arse sore from being spanked and fucked all night. He whines for it though, not even bothering to keep quiet, little hands gripping at the sheets. “ _Daddy_.”  
  
  
Harry is panting now, his eyes dropped closed, hips pistoning, cock pumping in and out. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good to me, baby,” he breathes. “Letting me fuck you like this – even when you’re still all sensitive – _shit_.” He bites his lip, desperately bucking his hips.  
  
  
Louis mewls at the praise and arches into it some more, eager to please. The mattress creaks with each thrust and Harry is panting hard into the back of Louis’s neck, murmuring senselessly about how good he feels. He’s holding Louis tight around the hips, pulling him back onto his cock while his hips eagerly stutter forward, fucking him recklessly, balls slapping wetly against his arse. “Baby,” Harry whines, sounding closer than ever. “Gonna make me come _so_ fucking hard.”  
  
  
And Harry does, burying himself deep inside Louis as he comes in thick spurts, whining into the back of his neck. Louis shivers at the feeling, wet and full. They’ve tried this coming-inside thing a few times now, but Louis still isn’t used to how _full_ he is afterwards, how incredibly claimed he feels. It’s dirty, and it’s messy, and it makes Harry’s entire body shudder and shake whenever he gets to come inside of Louis, and Louis loves it.

  
  
Eventually, Harry pulls out, his dick sensitive and spent between his legs. He gently tips Louis back onto the bed and gets up to fetch a flannel, rinsing it with hot water in the sink. He comes back to find Louis exactly where he left him, sprawled out on the sheets, looking positively wrecked, his skin still flushed all over.  
  
  
He sits down on the bed and Louis watches as Harry tends to him, dabbing the warm flannel against his tummy. He shyly spreads his legs and Harry carefully wipes away the mess between his thighs, swallowing hard when a bit of his come dribbles out from Louis’s hole. He reaches out, gently pushing it back inside with his finger.  
  
  
Louis watches him, biting his lip. “Why are you so obsessed with coming in me?” he says, giggling a bit, still dazed from a _really_ good orgasm.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head and goes back to tidying him up, his cheeks actually turning a bit pink with a blush. “I don’t even know. It’s just – hot.”  
  
  
Louis smirks. “Think you’ve got a kink for it.”  
  
  
Harry ducks his head to kiss him. “Think I’ve got a kink for anything that reminds me you’re all mine,” he whispers, the dimple popping out in his cheek. “Now, roll over.”  
  
  
Louis does, hugging a pillow to his chest while Harry rubs soothing lotion all over his arse. It’s tender and sensitive to the touch, but Harry is extra careful, still murmuring praises as he blows at the skin to help it dry.  
  
  
Afterwards, he gives Louis one of his t-shirts to wear to bed and they lie together, facing each other in the dark. Louis wrinkles his nose, frowning a bit. “I think our tea went cold.”  
  
  
Harry laughs. “I reckon so, we’ve been at it for hours.”  
  
  
Louis hums sleepily. “It was worth it, though.”  
  
  
Harry smirks. “Yeah?”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so smug.”  
  
  
Harry laughs, nuzzling at him, “I’m always gonna be smug after I make you come like that.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “No wonder my arse is so sore.”  
  
  
Harry frowns a bit at that, rubbing at his hip. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, pecking his cheek. “You were perfect,” he whispers fondly, tilting his chin up to bring their lips together.  
  
  
Harry hums happily against his mouth, whispering between kisses, “I love you _so_ much, baby.”  
  
  
Louis smiles. “I love you, too,” he whispers. “Always.”  
  
  
  
Always.  
  



	14. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 22k, and by far the hardest chapter for me to write. 
> 
>  
> 
> Very different from the usual; lots of angst + hurt/comfort, and not much smut.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm nervous about how this will be received, but I hope you'll like it.
> 
>  
> 
> xx

  
  
  
  
Two months passed, autumn blurred fast into winter, and the first of December arrived with a flurry of ice and snow. Christmas was in the air, and Louis was feeling extra spirited this year. After all, it would be the first holidays he would spend in his new home, the first holidays with Harry.  
  
  
The weekend was spent decking the halls. They climbed up to the dusty attic, finding cardboard boxes stuffed with ceramic snowmen and tinsel, silver bells and bits of mistletoe. They started with the outside before working their way in, draping strings of twinkling lights around the hedges of the garden, and pinning two large wreaths to the double-front doors, both topped with red velvet bows. Indoors, they twisted vines of garland around the banisters of the grand staircase, and swapped the good china plates out for the ones with holly berries and candy canes painted on them. The fireplace mantel was wrapped in gold tinsel, with two hand-painted nutcrackers standing proud on either side of the hearth.  
  
  
They got their tree from a Christmas tree farm, a _massive_ Frasier fir that made the entire downstairs of the house smell like pine, a perfect addition to the season. It stood like a beacon in the corner of the den, lights flashing softly from behind the many glass bulbs and ornaments, dangling gently from each limb.  
  
  
By late Sunday evening, the house looked like something out of _Twas the Night Before Christmas_ , the decorations finally complete. Satisfied and weary, they sprawled out on the sofas, sipping at mugs of hot cocoa and admiring their work.  
  
  
“Can’t believe it took two whole days to decorate that thing,” Liam said, nodding to the tree.  
  
  
“Smells amazing, though,” Harry added.  
  
  
Louis sat perched on Harry’s lap, blowing at the steam that rose up from his mug. “What did you do for a tree last year?”  
  
  
Harry hummed in thought, looking to Liam. “Think we just put up a fake one, didn’t we?”  
  
  
Liam nodded. “That’s right. Other than that, we didn’t decorate much.”  
  
  
Zayn stifled a yawn against the back of his hand. “Why not?”  
  
  
“Well, we didn’t really spend Christmas here last year, since it was just the two of us,” Harry explained. “We both went to visit our families, instead.”  
  
  
Liam threw an arm around Zayn then. “Got our own families now, though,” he simpered, being purposely obnoxious just to see Zayn fondly roll his eyes.  
  
  
At Liam’s mention of family, Harry’s hand slid around to discreetly rub at Louis’s belly, and Louis hid a smile behind his mug. They hadn’t told the others they were trying for a baby, yet.  
  
  
Louis has no idea if he’s already pregnant or not. They haven’t taken any tests, and he doesn’t think he’s experienced any symptoms so far, but…well, the thing is…Harry’s recently discovered ‘coming-inside kink’ has been in full swing ever since that first time, so it does raise some suspicion.  
  
  
Louis set his mug aside on the coffee table and curled up further on Harry’s lap. He wound his arms around his middle, hands slipping up under his jumper to touch skin, which was somehow always warm and toasty no matter how cold it got outside. Harry patted at his hip, a familiar gesture of affection, and Louis pressed a kiss to his cheek, lips trailing up to his ear. “Will you fuck me again, tonight?” he whispered, keeping his voice low.  
  
  
Harry nodded imperceptibly, just once, in such a way that could almost pass for a _maybe.  
  
  
_ His hand tightening on Louis’s thigh, however, said _anything you want_.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day, Louis sat on the floor of the master bedroom, his legs crossed, wrapping a present for his mum that arrived in the post that morning. He was surrounded by scissors and tape and big tubes of wrapping paper, a bag stuffed full of ribbons and bows. He had just finished signing the nametag when the door opened and Harry quietly stepped inside, home early from work.  
  
  
Louis capped the pen, his eyes lighting up. “Hi.”  
  
  
“Hey, love,” Harry murmured, his gaze traveling across all the gift-wrapping supplies Louis had gathered around him. He chuckled a bit. “You look like a little Christmas elf.”  
  
  
Louis scowled and shook his head, plucking a green bow from the bag. “m’not little.”  
  
  
Harry just smiled adoringly, scooting a stray bit of wrapping paper aside to make room before he joined him on the floor.  
  
  
It’s only then Louis realised Harry was hiding something behind his back. He tried to peek around him, raising his brow. “What ya got there?”  
  
  
Harry smiled. “Something I had delivered to my work office. Bit of an early Christmas present.” He held out a rectangular box then, wrapped in gold with a shiny silver bow. “For you.”  
  
  
Louis took it in his hands, looking up at Harry with a quirked brow. “Should I wait, or—?”  
  
  
“No, no. You can open it now,” Harry told him, his eyes glinting with excitement.  
  
  
Curiosity sufficiently piqued, Louis tore at the wrappings, revealing a simple white box underneath. He lifted the lid and carefully peeled back the decorative paper, gasping a bit at what he found inside…a little pair of baby pyjamas. A _onesie_ —soft and so very tiny, fit for a newborn, with little mitted feet. “Oh my god,” Louis whispered, feeling his face split into a ridiculous grin as he lifted it from the box. It was so _soft_. Soft and white with a little yellow duck embroidered on the front. He hugged it to his chest, feeling a bit tearful. “ _Harry_ ,” he whined, laughing happily.  
  
  
Harry smiled, leaning in to kiss Louis’s temple. “Thought it would be perfect for when our little duckling arrives.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head, tracing the outline of the duck with his finger. “You’re such a sap.”  
  
  
Harry’s chest rumbled with a laugh. “You like my sappiness, though.”  
  
  
“I do,” Louis nodded, staring fondly down at the tiny onesie in his hands, imaging how much cuter it would be with their baby tucked inside, all soft and cozy. “Thank you,” he whispered.  
  
  
“You’re very welcome, baby,” Harry kissed him again, nosing at his hair. “You still up for shopping?”  
  
  
“Mhmm,” Louis nodded.  
  
  
“Alright,” Harry said, pushing himself up from the floor, “I’m just gonna get changed real quick.”  
  
  
“’kay,” Louis nodded again. He carefully tucked the baby onesie back into its box, already in love with it. It feels very special in a way, that it’s the very first baby-thing they own. Of all the other clothes and toys and furniture they’re going to start collecting now, this cute little onesie with a duckling on it that Harry picked out special will have always been the first.  
  
  
Louis hopped up from the floor and started getting ready then, pulling a thick jumper on over his t-shirt, preparing for the outdoor weather. Then he fixed his fringe and slipped a knitted beanie onto his head, stepping into his Vans.  
  
  
Once they were both dressed and ready to go, they left the warmth of the house and ventured out into a cold, winter afternoon, taking a drive into the city.  
  
  
It’s gorgeous this time of year, all decked-out for the holidays. There’s lights and holly and tinsel hanging everywhere, bells jingling and carolers humming somewhere in the distance, colours blooming from all sides in shades of red and green and silver and gold.  
  
  
They end up at the shopping mall, marveling at the gigantic Christmas tree that stands in the center of the atrium. It’s at least ten times the size of the one they have back at the house and Harry and Louis slowly circled around it to get a better look, their hands linked between them.  
  
  
At the base of the tree, an elderly woman sat beside a donation box, collecting for a charity that gives toys to children in need for Christmas. The woman looked astounded when Harry walked up and pulled out his wallet, before slipping about ten £100 notes into the box.  
  
  
“Th-thank you, kindly,” the woman stammered, taken aback.  
  
  
Harry gave her a smile, “Merry Christmas.”  
  
  
And Louis could actually feel his heart swelling up inside his chest, glowing brighter than the star on top of the Christmas tree.  
  
  
  
They followed the mall directory to a store on the upper level, a boutique called Pea in the Pod. It carried all sorts of maternity clothes, from casualwear to pyjamas, and Louis could hardly believe this was happening – he was actually shopping for _maternity_ clothes. The mannequins on display all had baby-bumps, and there was a pregnant woman shopping inside, sorting through a table of stretchy t-shirts.  
  
  
Louis picked out a few pairs of jeans and pyjama pants that he liked, all with elastic waistbands on the inside. Then they slipped into one of the dressing room stalls and Harry sat down on the bench, watching while Louis tried things on.  
  
  
He started with the jeans, turning in small circles in front of the full-length mirror to look them over. “Guess I should get these in a couple different sizes, so I can switch them out the further along I get.”  
  
  
“Probably a good idea,” Harry nodded. “We can always come back for more later on if we need to.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, satisfied, slipping back out of the jeans. He folded them up and tried on the pyjama pants next, tugging them up over his hips. Harry watched him from behind, his gaze narrowing in shamelessly on the way the cotton fit nice and snug around Louis’s bum. “Oh, you’re _definitely_ getting those,” he said, pushing up from the bench.  
  
  
Harry crossed the small space between them then, wrapping his arms around Louis from behind. Louis stared at their reflections in the mirror, completely captivated, as Harry pressed a kiss behind his ear, his hands settling on Louis’s belly.  
  
  
“God, I’m so excited,” Harry murmured, almost to himself. “Can’t wait for there to be a little bump here.”  
  
  
Louis smirked. “We don’t even know if I’m pregnant, yet,” he reminded him.  
  
  
Harry just shook his head, squeezing at his hips. “I can take care of that.”  
  
  
Louis rolled his eyes. There was now something growing stiff against his arse.  
  
  
Harry groaned pitifully, nudging his forehead against Louis’s neck. “Fuck, even just talking about it gets me hard,” he whispered. “I don’t know why.”  
  
  
Louis watched him curiously in the mirror. “Talking about what? You getting me pregnant?”  
  
  
Harry just nodded, his lips nipping at Louis’s earlobe.  
  
  
Louis suppressed a shiver. “Down, boy,” he whispered. “There’s people right outside that door.”  
  
  
Harry laughed, giving Louis’s hips another squeeze before reluctantly pulling away.  
  
  
  
When they finished shopping for clothes, they headed into the shop that sat directly next door. It was another baby store, this one supplying all sorts of toys and furniture and essentials for pregnancy. Louis looked around in awe, feeling much like the children in the toy shop a few stores down, not sure where to begin.  
  
  
“Look, some bassinets,” Harry said, pointing.  
  
  
They looked over the different display models, before deciding on one of the polished wood bassinets, set with a cream-coloured skirt that was trimmed with white ribbon. Louis ran his hand across the soft cotton bedding on the inside. “It’s perfect,” he murmured.  
  
  
Harry spoke to the salesperson, placing an order for the bassinet to be delivered to the house, along with the rest of the set: a matching rocking chair, dresser, and a diaper-changing table.  
  
  
They split up and browsed around the rest of the shop then, exploring. Louis picked out more baby clothes, some onesies and mittens and socks, silently gushing to himself over how cute and tiny everything was. Eventually, he found Harry in the electronics section, knee-deep in baby monitors and portable back massagers.  
  
  
“Look, baby,” Harry said, holding up a box to show Louis, “these are little headphones we can strap onto your belly so the baby can listen to music.”  
  
  
Louis playfully snatched the box out of his hands. “You are _not_ forcing our child to listen to Shania Twain before they’re even born.”  
  
  
Harry chuckled and cocked his hip, taking the box back. “Keep teasing me about my musical tastes and I’ll start serenading you in the middle of this shop.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “I’d run away.”  
  
  
“Not for long,” Harry retorted, grinning cheekily. “Your legs are too short, I’d catch up to you in no time.”  
  
  
Louis tutted indignantly. “And _your_ legs are ridiculously long. I’d trip you.”  
  
  
“Can’t trip me, love, I’ve already fallen for you.”  
  
  
Louis groaned, dragging a hand down over his face. “You’re impossible,” he whispered, practically radiating fond. “You really are.”  
  
  
Harry just laughed, and Louis watched as he showed him the rest of the goodies he found, his eyes bright with excitement. On the other side of the store was another couple—a pregnant sub deciding on a nursery theme while his dom stood beside him, looking bored and scrolling through his phone. And Louis looked back at Harry, feeling so much gratitude. He loved that Harry was just as excited for this as he was. He was beginning to feel his heart swelling up inside his chest again.  
  
  
He had that feeling a lot, lately.  
  
  
  
They had practically bought out the store by the time they left, their arms heavy with shopping bags. The rest of the afternoon was spent Christmas shopping for their families, and then they made their way to the parking garage to pack up the Range Rover. Ice-cold wind nipped at their cheeks, and Louis quickly climbed into the passenger seat.  
  
  
“Cold?” Harry murmured, starting up the engine.  
  
  
Louis nodded with a shiver, tucking his hands between his thighs, and Harry turned on the heated-seats to warm him up.  
  
  
As they drove, Louis stared out the window, taking in the sights. The towns were even more beautiful after dark, with ribbons and lights dawning every street corner, snow beginning to fall in gentle flakes. Christmas music was playing on the radio, a slow hymn of _Silent Night_. It was Louis’s favourite time of year, although he had never appreciated it quite like this, before.  
  
  
At a stoplight, Harry reached over and placed his hand on Louis’s thigh, his thumb rubbing just below the knee. “What do you want for Christmas, baby?”  
  
  
Louis thought for a long moment, then shrugged. “Dunno.”  
  
  
Harry glanced sideways at him as he drove. “Can’t think of _anything?_ ”  
  
  
Louis shrugged again, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Kinda difficult when you’ve already given me everything. If you haven’t noticed, you tend to spoil me.”  
  
  
Harry grinned, “’m never gonna stop.”  
  
  
“Besides,” Louis added, ignoring him, “I don’t want you to get me things when I can’t afford to get you something in return.”  
  
  
“You could afford it,” Harry supplied.  
  
  
Louis rolled his eyes, “only because I’d be using _your_ credit card. Sort of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”  
  
  
Harry just shook his head. “Baby, everything I have is yours.”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, turning his head to look out the window. The edges were beginning to fog up a bit with frost. After a moment, he quietly added, “I don’t want presents.”  
  
  
Harry glanced over at him. “No?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head, looking down at his lap, at Harry’s hand on his thigh. He traced a fingertip over his wrist, “…you know what I want.”  
  
  
Harry smiled, turning over his palm to link their fingers together. “I know, love. I want that, too.”  
  
  
They stopped at a pharmacy then, and picked up a basketful of pregnancy tests.  
  
  
  
  
They brought home Japanese take-out for dinner that night. The four of them ate in the den, balancing plates on their laps while they watched some of the holiday specials on TV. Afterwards, as they were washing dishes and putting the leftovers away, they decided to tell Liam and Zayn that they were trying for a baby. Those two were bound to figure things out in just a few day’s time anyway when all of the nursery furniture began to arrive, and as expected, they both looked excited and happy for them, Liam clapping Harry proudly on the back while Zayn looped his arm around Louis’s waist, giving him a cuddle.  
  
  
All of the baby-talk had Louis feeling antsy, so he and Harry didn’t return to the den once the washing up was done. Instead, they headed upstairs together, both quiet with nerves.  
  
  
  
It was dark in the master bedroom, their shopping bags still stacked in one corner, untouched. Harry flicked on the bedside table lamp while Louis rummaged through the pharmacy bag with nervous hands, picking out two different tests. He carried them into the bathroom, carefully reading the instructions on the back of each box. He made Harry wait on the bed while he peed on both sticks, setting a timer on his phone. Then he walked back out to the bedroom, and began to pace the floor.  
  
  
Harry watched him, the way his shoulders were held tight with tension, his brow knitted together. He moved in slow, aimless circles around the carpet, chewing thoroughly at his lip.  
  
  
“Baby?” Harry said, softly after a moment.  
  
  
Louis froze as if pulled from deep thought, looking around at him in question.  
  
  
Harry smiled, gently. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting his hand on the mattress.  
  
  
Louis sighed and stopped his pacing, sitting down on the bed beside him.  
  
  
Harry studied his face. “What are you thinking?”  
  
  
Louis shrugged meekly, staring down at his hands. “Think it’s going to be negative,” he said. “I haven’t had any symptoms.”  
  
  
Harry hummed. “Might be too early for that.”  
  
  
Louis shrugged again, fidgeting, picking at his nails. Harry reached out and took his hand in attempts to calm him. Louis’s foot still anxiously tapped against the floor.  
  
  
A few drawn-out minutes passed, and they both flinched when the timer went off, an incessantly cheerful tune, jarring in the quiet. Louis tapped at his phone and then dropped it back onto the bed, still worrying at his lip.  
  
  
Harry brought a hand to the small of his back. “Want me to get it?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head, standing suddenly. “No. I’ll do it.”  
  
  
Harry remained on the edge of the bed, leaned forward with his hands clasped in front of him, watching as Louis slowly disappeared into the en-suite. There was a delayed pause of complete silence, while Harry stared at the empty doorway, waiting for Louis to reappear.  
  
  
More silence. Another long moment passed, and then another. Still nothing. Harry frowned, rising up from the bed to see what was going on.  
  
  
When he stepped into the bathroom, he found Louis standing near the sink, his back to him, staring down at the countertop where the two tests sat, side-by-side.  
  
  
“It’s negative,” Louis said, flatly, not turning around. “They’re both negative.”  
  
  
Harry felt a sad little tug on his heart, and then stepped closer. “m’sorry, love.”  
  
  
Louis glared at the tests for a few more seconds before he slowly turned, burrowing himself against Harry’s chest, seeking comfort. Harry scooped him up and carried him back out of the bathroom, whisking him away from the offending tests.  
  
  
He lay down on the bed, still holding Louis, kissing the top of his head. Louis was quiet against his chest, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in a frown. After a long moment, he cleared his throat to speak.  
  
  
“It’s just – like I said, I had a feeling it would be negative but…” he sighed. “Guess I was just hoping I was _wrong_.”  
  
  
Harry frowned. “Baby…” he murmured, rubbing at his back. “It’s – it’s okay. The box said it’s better to take the test in the morning, anyway. We can try another one tomorrow.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “It’s still going to be negative,” he whispered bitterly. “I don’t get it…It’s already been over two months and – and we’ve had sex almost every night,” he whispered, clinging to Harry, his eyes clenched shut.  
  
  
Harry pulled back then, tipping Louis’s chin up to see his face. “It just takes _time_ , baby, that’s all,” he soothed, peppering his face with kisses, feeling an instinctive need to comfort him.  
  
  
Louis closed his eyes, letting himself be kissed. “I know that, it’s just…I just want it so much,” he whispered.  
  
  
“I know,” Harry placated, pecking at his lips. His hand slid down to Louis’s hip, rubbing gently. “We’ve got nothing but time, love. It’s okay. We can always try again...You know I’ll never say no to that,” he murmured, slipping his fingers under Louis’s shirt.  
  
  
Louis finally looked up at him then, his mouth quirking up a bit in a rueful smile.  
  
  
Harry smiled back. “That’s more like it,” he said, pecking Louis’s lips again. He nuzzled at him with a pout, squeezing his hip. “I really hate when you’re upset.”  
  
  
Louis stared back at him, his gaze traveling over Harry’s face in the dim light. He was endlessly grateful to have him, this fucking incredible person, who often seemed far too good to be true. It was times like these when Louis felt as if he would just _break_ without Harry, like he’d actually shatter if it wasn’t for the gentle way Harry held him, kissing his hair and reminding him that everything was going to be alright.  
  
  
Nearly every single day, Louis asked himself how he managed to be lucky enough to have someone like Harry in his life, and he still couldn’t come up with an answer. Because it still didn’t feel real sometimes, to think that they were together – that Harry actually _chose_ him, and he was still here, still wanting to be with Louis. It didn’t seem possible.  
  
  
Louis was so in love with him, his chest was beginning to ache with it.  
  
  
…And there was something else.  
  
  
Without warning, a strange, terrible feeling was starting to come over Louis. Something he hadn’t felt in quite some time…a fear of abandonment. For some reason, he was suddenly terribly anxious that Harry was about to leave him. The feeling hit like a freight train, rendering him momentarily dazed, and slightly panicked.  
  
  
It didn’t make sense. Harry was right there, his hand a warm weight on Louis’s hip, still staring back at him all fond and lovingly, but yet…an _awful_ voice at the back of Louis’s head was hissing at him, telling him that Harry was going to leave, and soon. He could feel his entire body tense up with it and quickly shoved the feeling away, shook his head as if to clear it. He swallowed hard and then he reached out, hesitantly brushing his fingertip against the dimple in Harry’s cheek. “I love you…” he whispered, quiet and a bit pained.  
  
  
And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if Harry would say it back.  
  
  
Harry, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He smiled sleepily and tilted his chin, kissing at Louis’s fingers. “I love you, too,” he whispered. “More than anything.”  
  
  
Louis’s heart pounded with those words and then he was being pushed back onto the bed, Harry rolling on top of him. They kissed for a while, long and deep, Louis’s arms locked around Harry’s neck, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He couldn’t seem to shake the fear that at any moment, Harry would suddenly stop touching him, get up from the bed, and leave. He couldn’t explain it.  
  
  
Harry didn’t seem to either notice or mind Louis’s sudden spike in clinginess, the near desperate way that he held onto him now, responding eagerly to every touch. Wanting to be good, and needing to be wanted. Harry just kept kissing him, sliding his hand up under Louis’s t-shirt to span across his tummy. His fingers drifted up to his chest, exploring all the little bits and pieces, lazily touching the warm skin. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over his nipple, toying with it gently, until Louis started to whimper quietly into his mouth.  
  
  
Louis broke the kiss, his head dropping back against the pillow. “Harry…”  
  
  
Harry buried his face in the crook of Louis’s shoulder, kissing up his neck. “Mhm?”  
  
  
Louis squirmed, his nipple getting sensitive under Harry’s thumb. “I wanna – wanna try again,” he breathed.  
  
  
Harry’s lips were soft against his throat. “You sure?”  
  
  
Louis nodded vehemently, his hips canting up. He needed to be closer, needed Harry to _want_ him, so maybe that awful feeling would go away.  
  
  
Oblivious, Harry bit back a smirk, mistaking Louis’s eagerness for something else entirely. He nuzzled at his neck, his lips open and dragging against the skin, “…y’know, baby, lately I’ve been fucking you almost every night,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “You sure you’re not getting tired of it?” He rolled his hips down for emphasis, his cock swollen against Louis’s thigh.  
  
  
Louis moaned weakly and shook his head. “Could never get tired of the way you fuck me.”  
  
  
Harry grinned, looking rather proud of himself. He pulled away from Louis’s neck to meet his eyes, taking his hands to link their fingers together. Then he pinned Louis’s wrists to the mattress above his head. “I’m gonna make damn sure of that.”  
  
  
Harry ducked his head to kiss him, eager to move things right along, but then stopped when Louis spoke again, something still nagging at him in the back of his head, “…and what about you?”  
  
  
Harry paused, quirking his head to the side. “What d’you mean?”  
  
  
Louis averted his eyes. If Harry didn’t have him pinned, he would be fidgeting. “Just – you’re not getting tired of it either, right? Like…with me?” he asked, his voice small and filled with doubt. He felt stupid for asking, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He had to know.  
  
  
Harry froze where he hovered over Louis, his brow rising up, taken aback. His grip loosened on Louis’s wrists, then. The teasing smirk on his face vanished, replaced with something else. It was as if he all at once became aware of that anxious feeling Louis was holding inside. And just like that, all of the playful, sexual tension they had built up suddenly evaporated into thin air, and Louis felt even _more_ stupid. After all, Harry was only trying to coax him into some dirty talk, not launch into a conversation about Louis’s dumb insecurities.  
  
  
Caught off guard, Harry stared down at him, shaking his head. “I’m – baby, of course not,” he said, his face twisted in utter disbelief. “It’s – fuck, it’s so good with you.” He tipped his chin and sealed their lips together, hard, but still so gentle, somehow. He let go of Louis’s hands and wrapped him up in his arms instead, rolling them onto their sides, so that they faced each other in the dim light of the bedroom, their foreheads touching.  
  
  
Harry’s hand gripped at Louis’s thigh, hiking it up over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. His cock was full and straining where it pressed against Louis’s groin. “You feel that?” he whispered, nosing at his cheek. “Feel how hard you’ve got me? How badly I need to come because of you?”  
  
  
Louis swallowed thickly and nodded, his hand fisting in Harry’s shirt.  
  
  
Harry kept kissing him, holding him tight. “You have to know how much I want you, how much I _always_ want you,” he murmured. “I…god, Louis, sometimes I just want you so much I can’t even think straight,” he admitted quietly, his palm against Louis’s cheek. “I could never, ever get tired of you.”  
  
  
Louis stared back at him, listening closely to every word, needing them like air.  
  
  
Harry kissed at the corner of his mouth, his lips lingering there. “Do you believe me?” he whispered, hushed between them. “Please tell me you do.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, reassured, and feeling silly for even doubting in the first place. There was no reason to. “I do,” he nodded again, resolutely.  
  
  
Harry searched his eyes. “I really hope so,” he whispered. His brow knitted together in confusion, as if he were trying to figure out where he went wrong. “God, it kills me to think I haven’t made you feel wanted when it’s – I thought you _knew_. The way we are when we’re together – I thought—”  
  
  
“Harry, no.” Louis cut him off, shaking his head. “You do. You really do. I’m just – being stupid, I guess,” he leaned in and kissed his cheek, desperate for that worried line between Harry’s brows to disappear.  
  
  
Harry was blaming himself, of course, for Louis’s own stupid, baseless worries, and Louis _hated_ it. Harry didn’t deserve to feel this way, like he wasn’t doing enough, when he did everything – _everything,_ and more. Always taking care of Louis in the best possible way, always making him feel wanted. And here Louis was, making him feel like he had done something wrong, like it wasn’t _good enough_. It was all Louis’s fault, and he was internally kicking himself for hurting Harry like this. He needed to fix it, and fast.  
  
  
He reached out, his little hand cradling Harry’s jaw. “You make me feel wanted all the time. Every single day,” Louis told him, holding his gaze, unflinching. “You don’t even have to say it. I can tell by the way you look at me, and touch me, and – and the way you f-fuck me,” he whispered, his face heating up with a blush, pushing through his fear of saying these kinds of things out loud.  
  
  
Harry stared back at him for a long moment, searching his eyes, and then he smiled softly, his thumb brushing behind his ear. “…I don’t even remember what it’s like, not to want you,” he whispered. He leaned in close, nosing at Louis’s cheekbone. “Think I’d lose my mind if I couldn’t touch you again.”  
  
  
Louis made a soft sound at that, tilting his chin to get Harry to kiss him. He wanted to leave this all behind – that voice, the feeling, the weight of it. He wanted Harry to fuck him so he wouldn’t have to think anymore.  
  
  
Their mouths came together, open, and a bit wet. Harry kissed him breathless, touching Louis as he always touched him. Like he loved him. Like he was something precious.  
  
  
It was exactly how Louis needed to be touched.  
  
  
He hooked his thigh up tighter around Harry’s hip, pressing in close, wordlessly asking for more, and Harry slid his hand around to knead at his arse, holding him tight. Louis made a soft, breathy sound and Harry started to grind against him, his cock bulging at the front of his joggers.  
  
  
Harry ducked down to suck a bruise into the skin of his neck then, possessive in his intensity. “Gonna fuck you, now,” he breathed, shuddered against Louis’s neck. “Want you to come for me.”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, his cock aching where it rubbed against Harry’s through their clothes, listening as Harry kept murmuring in his ear, his voice soft and sweet and his words filthy. “Wanna fuck you for hours. All night.” Harry took Louis’s hand then, guiding it down over his abdomen to slip inside his boxers, urging Louis to touch him, and feel how hard he was. Louis swallowed thickly as his fingers wrapped around Harry’s dick, felt it pulse against his palm. He thumbed at the head and Harry shivered with a grunt, leaning in to kiss him. “Gonna fuck you,” he whispered again. “’m not gonna stop until you know you’re the only one who gets me like this.”  
  
  
Louis whined quietly, and Harry kissed behind his ear. “Is that okay?” he murmured, petting at his hip. “Will you let me?”  
  
  
“Please,” Louis whispered, and without another word, Harry tipped him back against the mattress, crawling up between his thighs.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later, Louis lay naked and boneless across Harry’s chest, his arms wrapped around his middle and his face tucked into the crook of his neck, catching his breath. Their skin was damp with sweat, Louis’s tummy streaked with come. Harry was still inside of him, his hands on Louis’s arse, spreading him apart as he pumped his cock into him a few last times, groaning through his orgasm, and filling Louis up. Louis shivered at the feeling with a sigh, letting Harry fuck him ‘til he finished.  
  
  
“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Harry breathed, collapsing back against the pillows.  
  
  
Louis smiled with his eyes closed, nosing at his throat. “Good?”  
  
  
Harry shook his head, “I came so much,” he whispered on an exhale, slightly awed.  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, wiggling his hips against the wetness. “I can tell.”  
  
  
Harry smiled a little sheepishly, blissed out. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, Louis still cradled against it. “Do you think tonight could be… _the_ night?”  
  
  
Louis shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.” He slowly sat up then, trailing kisses up the line of Harry’s throat, along his jaw, and up to his cheek.  
  
  
Harry hummed and wrapped his arms around Louis’s back, kissing him sweetly. “Hope so,” he murmured. He lazily rocked his hips a few more times, his dick getting sensitive where it was still tucked inside. “Think I made a mess,” he whispered, pecking Louis’s lips. “Want me to run you a bath?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “Just get a flannel,” Louis whispered between kisses. “Wanna keep you in me.”  
  
  
Harry groaned pitifully and nuzzled at Louis’s neck, making him giggle. Louis just _loved_ to tease Harry about his newfound kink. Harry kissed him one more time and then tipped him back onto the bed, gingerly getting up.  
  
  
Louis lay back as Harry cleaned him up, his body limp and his mind deliciously fuzzy, skin still hot with a blush. He felt so good, and wanted, and loved.  
  
  
  
It wasn’t until an hour later, as he lay awake in the dark, that that anxious feeling began to creep up on him again. Harry was already sleeping, breathing deeply against Louis’s shoulder, his arm draped over his middle. Louis slotted their fingers together and pushed the feeling away, hoping it wouldn’t come back again.  
  
  
He closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to take him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
The following week was spent setting up the nursery.  
  
  
Early one morning, Harry showed Louis to one of the upstairs’ bedrooms, their fingers laced between them as they crept down the hall together. It was empty inside, having never been used. The walls were bare and painted a soft cream colour, the carpets plush and white, with a large bay window looking out over the back garden. The morning sun fell through it, lighting up the thin sheen of dust that had gathered in the room. Louis stood in the center and turned in slow circles, imagining how it would look when everything came together.  
  
  
Harry leaned back against the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching him with a small smile. “Like it?”  
  
  
Louis nodded, smiling back. “It’s perfect,” he whispered. He studied the layout of the room, already planning where each piece of furniture would go. “I think maybe we should put the bassinette there, up against that far wall. And then the rocking chair beside it, in the corner,” he said with a point, turning back to Harry. “What do you think?”  
  
  
Harry pushed away from the wall, coming to stand beside him. “That’s a good idea. It will be nice and close when we rock the baby to sleep, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis smiled at the thought. It was all becoming real. They were going to have a _baby_. He turned to face the opposite wall, nibbling at his lip. “And then the dresser there, next to the changing table?”  
  
  
Harry nodded, ducking his head to kiss Louis’s soft hair. “Whatever you want, love.”  
  
  
Louis sighed and looped his arms around Harry’s middle, resting his cheek against his chest. “Gosh, I just can’t wait,” he whispered.  
  
  
Harry hummed in agreement, fingertips tracing soft circles on the small of Louis’s back.  
  
  
  
The next day, a truck from the furniture store arrived. All of the pieces were already pre-assembled, and it took about three or four workers to haul everything inside and up the grand staircase, down the hall to the nursery room. Afterwards, Harry and Louis tidied up, vacuuming the carpets and dusting everything off, until it was spotlessly clean. They hung framed pictures on the walls, soft watercolour paintings of bunnies and sailboats and, of course, ducklings.  
  
  
Once it was finished, the nursery looked even better than Louis pictured it would, so soft and cozy and simply radiating warmth and love. It was quickly becoming his favourite room in the house. Everything seemed to be coming together, slowly, and all at once.  
  
  
There was only one thing left that seemed to be missing.  
  
  
And sadly, it was the most important thing of all.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
After dinner one night, Louis sits on the floor of the nursery by the dresser, a stack of baby clothes beside him, carefully tucking everything away. Harry is perched nearby in the rocking chair, flipping through one of the many baby books they had collected. He turns to the section on nurseries, glancing up at Louis. “We can probably just leave the clothes, for now,” he says, yawning into his palm. “The book says we’ll have to wash it all again right before the baby arrives, anyway.”  
  
  
Louis nods, slowly. “I know,” he whispers, not looking up from his lap. “Just – I want everything to be perfect.”  
  
  
Harry watches as Louis carefully folds one of the baby onesies and places it in the drawer. Then he shakes his head and reaches for it back, unfolding it and then folding it again, until all of the corners match up just right. He really does seem to be fixated on making everything perfect.  
  
  
And Harry wonders if he could be nesting.  
  
  
The books said that nesting was more common for parents who were adopting, but it was also likely among carriers who were trying to get pregnant but hadn’t yet succeeded. Harry knew that Louis had been feeling restless ever since those last two tests turned out negative, and so maybe this – this little routine of folding clothes and straightening the linens until they were perfect, was Louis’s way of coping.  
  
  
Harry smiles a little sadly, setting the book aside. He moves from the rocking chair and slides down onto the floor, crawling up to sit behind Louis. He brackets him in between his thighs and wraps his arms around his middle, resting his chin on his shoulder. Looking down, he watches as Louis continues with his little task. It’s kind of cute, really. And Harry sighs, breathing in the moment of quiet and calm.  
  
  
That is, until he places his hands on Louis’s stomach.  
  
  
Immediately, Louis tenses, shoving his hands away. “Don’t touch me there,” he snaps.  
  
  
His words ring through the quiet, shattering the calm, like a gunshot. Harry freezes, taken completely aback. “ _Wha—?_ ”  
  
  
“I’m not pregnant, Harry,” Louis says in a short, clipped tone. “There’s nothing there to feel, so don’t even bother.”  
  
  
Harry feels as if he’s been slapped. He sits with his mouth agape, his hands hovering over Louis’s thighs, not touching. Dumbfounded, he stares at the back of Louis’s head, having no idea how to react. Louis has never snapped at him like that, before. He watches, at a total loss, as Louis continues to fold the pair of baby pyjamas in his lap, his body tight with tension now, hands fidgeting and agitated as they tirelessly work.  
  
  
“Louis…?” Harry says, hesitantly, his voice soft and filled with concern.  
  
  
Louis seems to snap out of it at that, his movements slowing to a halt. He drops the baby pyjamas, his shoulders sagging meekly.  
  
  
“… _I’m sorry_ ,” he whispers down to his lap.  
  
  
He pushes the clothes away and then he’s turning around to face Harry, his eyes wide and full of guilt and, strangely, _fear_. It was as if he were expecting Harry to be angry – to scold him, or maybe push up from the floor and walk away. Harry hadn’t moved a single centimeter but Louis still shook his head, his face slightly panicked, like he was pleading with Harry not to leave. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, and then he’s lunging forward, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck.  
  
  
Harry had never felt more confused in his life. Louis seemed to collapse into him and he hugs him back, reaching his hand up to cradle the back of his head. “Louis…” he murmurs, wracking his brain for some sort of explanation. “I – baby, are you okay? Talk to me.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, his face hidden behind Harry’s shoulder. “I’m fine, ‘m fine, I’m just - gosh, I don’t know why I snapped like that. Just – just forget it. I’m sorry.”  
  
  
Harry really doesn’t like how _scared_ Louis sounds – like he thinks Harry is about to push him away or something. But Harry just holds on even tighter, carding his fingers through his hair. “It’s _okay_ , Louis. I – you don’t have to apologise, baby, I know you’ve been feeling a little stressed about this stuff.” Louis’s arms tighten around his neck at that, and Harry sighs, sliding his hand down his back, still trying to make sense of this. “And – Louis, you know how much I love your tummy. I’ll always love it, whether you’re pregnant or not,” he frowns, uncertain. “But…I won’t touch it anymore, if you don’t want me to…”  
  
  
Louis sucks in a sharp breath, and then exhales. “I – no, Harry. I don’t want you to stop touching it. That’s – it’s fine. Fuck, I don’t know why I even…I think I’m just tired,” he sighs, shrinking a bit in Harry’s arms, his face still hidden. “…I really didn’t mean to snap at you,” he whispers, his voice small and guilty. “I’m sorry.”  
  
  
Harry just shakes his head, turning to kiss Louis’s temple. “Listen to me…I don’t want you to stress about this so much. Everything’s going to happen on its own time, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods his head, letting out another sigh. “Think I’m just tired,” he says again, and he really did sound exhausted. “Can we just go to bed?”  
  
  
Harry nods, still rubbing his back. “Of course.”  
  
  
Harry meant to carry him, but before he could move, Louis climbed off of his lap. He looked a bit awkward as he stood up, avoiding Harry’s gaze, like he was embarrassed by his own outburst. Carefully, Harry put a hand to the small of his back and guided him out of the nursery, leaving the rest of the baby clothes behind in a scattered pile on the floor.  
  
  
  
The walk to the master bedroom is terribly quiet. In the en-suite, they brush their teeth at the twin sinks, a rigid silence still hanging in the air between them. Louis avoids his own reflection in the mirror, while Harry keeps giving him worried looks. They’ve reached unfamiliar territory here, and water has never sounded so loud splashing in the sink.  
  
  
Louis takes his contacts out, rubbing at his eyes. He can feel Harry watching him, uneasily, until he finally steps closer and wraps a hesitant arm around him, nosing at his fringe. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he murmurs, his voice soft and unsure, “d’you wanna join me?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, guilt twisting sickly inside his stomach. “Erm, I think I’m just gonna head to bed, if – if that’s okay?” he stammers.  
  
  
Harry’s lips turn up in a sad smile, and Louis hates himself. “Of course, love,” Harry whispers. “Try to get some sleep, I’ll be there in a minute.” He presses a kiss to his forehead and then turns away, fetching a towel from the linen closet.  
  
  
Louis pads quietly out of the bathroom and heads straight for bed, tugging back the duvet. He curls up under the sheets and pulls his knees up close to his chest, feeling completely and utterly worthless.  
  
  
Worthless, because they’re supposed to be trying for a baby and he can’t even muster up the energy to take a shower with Harry that would most likely lead to sex. _Worthless_ , because he knows Harry was just trying to make everything better, to close the distance between them and repair the damage _Louis_ created. And Louis turned him down.  
  
  
It’s all his fault. _He’s_ the one who lashed out, _he’s_ the one who should be trying to make things better—not Harry. But instead, Harry reached out to him and Louis shrugged him off, probably hurt his feelings. Selfishly, and carelessly. Lately all Louis has done is sit around and worry that Harry is going to leave him, and then he goes and gives him a perfectly good reason to. He’s a fucking idiot.  
  
  
Harry could do so much better, really. Louis has no idea why he even bothers staying with him.  
  
  
Maybe it’s out of pity.  
  
  
He frowns and rolls over, prodding at his pillow. He’s so tired, but sleep seems so far away. He lies awake in the dark, listening to the faint sound of water splattering against tile. He can’t help his own paranoia, leading him to believe that Harry is taking a longer shower than usual. Then he wonders if it’s because Harry is wanking – that Louis is right there in bed, but yet Harry may have had to resort to hiding out in the shower and using his own hand for relief. And the only thing Louis can feel is cold, miserable shame.  
  
  
The water shuts off, followed by a short pause, and then Harry walks out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his waist. He slips into his closet and tugs on a pair of boxers, dragging the towel through his hair before tossing it towards the hamper. Louis rolls over onto his back and Harry climbs into bed, lying down beside him without a word.  
  
  
The silence that follows is heavy and devastating, weighed down by every word they’re not saying, and Louis feels sick. It’s never been like this, before. Never this kind of silence, and never with Harry.  
  
  
Timidly, Harry reaches out, his hand hovering over Louis’s stomach, like he’s not even sure if he’s allowed to touch, and Louis _hates_ that. This is all his fault. That anxious feeling is rising up inside him again like bile at the back of his throat and he panics, scrambling to fix this, to repair whatever damage he’s caused before it’s too late.  
  
  
He rolls over and scoots backward, pressing himself against Harry’s chest, as close as he can manage. He takes his hand and slips it up under his shirt, placing it flat against his belly, letting Harry know that it’s okay to hold him, and touch him, and praying to god that he’ll never, ever stop.  
  
  
Harry releases the breath he was holding, his shoulders sagging in relief. He curls himself around Louis, holding him tight against his chest while he presses a few needy kisses to the nape of his neck, almost apologetically, and Louis can’t stand that. There’s nothing for Harry to apologise for. Louis is the one who keeps fucking everything up.  
  
  
Still, Harry noses at the hair behind his ear, rubbing gently at his belly. “I love you, Louis,” he whispers, carefully, like he isn’t sure if Louis will believe him or not. “Nothing’s going to change that, yeah? I love you.”  
  
  
_Please don’t leave me_ , Louis thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he raises Harry’s other hand up to his lips, kissing at the back of his knuckles.  
  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispers, shakily against Harry’s palm. “I love you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Harry finds two more negative pregnancy tests discarded in the bin of the en-suite, right beside the toilet. He had no idea that Louis had even planned on taking another test so soon. He must have done it in private, while Harry was asleep.  
  
  
For the rest of the day, Louis never once mentioned the tests, and Harry decided not to bring it up, either.  
  
  
He couldn’t think of anything more to say.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
Things took a slight turn for the better over the next few weeks. Harry hadn’t come across any more secret pregnancy tests shoved in bins, and Louis seemed to gain back his sex-drive in full force, reviving their routine of having sex almost every night, and sometimes, on the couch in Harry’s office in the afternoons. (Harry had begun storing a spare bottle of lube in the drawer of his desk for those occasional moments when Louis would appear in the office doorway, looking adorably soft and fuckable, before politely asking if he could sit on Harry’s lap while he worked.)  
  
  
The thing is, here lately, they seemed to be fucking more than they were talking – like if they just kept _trying_ , then maybe the problem would resolve itself all on its own without them ever having to talk about it. Or maybe they could pretend like there _was_ no problem in the first place. It was a pretty clear avoidance tactic, but Louis didn’t seem to be keen on talking, and even if he were, Harry still wasn’t sure what to say.  
  
  
He kept a close eye on Louis, but so far, he hadn’t shown any more worrying changes in mood since the night he shoved Harry’s hands away from his stomach, no more snapping or irritability. He was still nesting, though; that was all but personally confirmed.  
  
  
At least once a day, Louis padded down the hall to the nursery to dust the already spotless furniture, or straighten the pin-straight linens, or refold the pristinely folded clothes. Other times, he sat in the rocking chair in the corner and read through the stack of baby books, his hand resting subconsciously on his tummy.  
  
  
The books said that this behaviour was to be expected, that carriers could quickly grow anxious and despondent if they felt they weren’t able to produce children fast enough, so Harry didn’t question him about it. Louis seemed to be very sensitive these days, and the last thing Harry wanted was to upset him. He _hated_ when Louis was upset. It was like having the darkest of storm clouds block out his one and only sun.  
  
  
So, Harry was especially careful with Louis, holding him extra tight, and telling him he loved him maybe one too many times. Hoping that if they just kept trying, then pretty soon, something would surely have to give.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry poured a bit of whiskey over ice, topping it off with some Coke. He swirled his glass around and settled back against the couch cushions, taking a long, slow sip. It was nearing midnight, now. The television was on, replaying football highlights, the sound muted. Across the den, flames flickered inside the stone fireplace, below a string of shiny tinsel. The Christmas tree stood silent in the corner, its branches intertwined with twinkling lights. It was snowing outside, frost tapping at the window, getting lost in the wind.  
  
  
It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps on the staircase, approaching quietly, and then Liam appeared in the archway, crossing the floor into the den. He nodded at Harry in greeting, before plopping down on the couch beside him.  
  
  
“How’s Zayn?” Harry asked, his gaze held on the coffee table in front of him. “Feeling any better?”  
  
  
Liam nodded. “Yeah, his fever finally went down and I’ve been trying to keep his fluids up. He’s sleeping, now.”  
  
  
Harry nodded, sipping quietly at his drink.  
  
  
Liam glanced around the den, quirking his brow. “Where’s Louis?”  
  
  
Harry pressed the back of his hand to his lips. “He’s, uh, up in the nursery.”  
  
  
“Again?”  
  
  
Harry just nodded, slowly.  
  
  
Liam made a soft sound and shifted on the couch, facing him, “…everything okay?”  
  
  
“That’s a good question,” Harry shook his head, chucking humourlessly. “I wish I knew, myself.”  
  
  
Liam watched him warily, waiting for him to continue.  
  
  
Harry took another sip, welcoming the warmth in his blood. He sighed, checking over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. “It’s just – we’ve been…trying. You know, for a baby. But, it hasn’t happened yet, and…Louis...” Harry paused, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure he’s taking it well.”  
  
  
Liam nodded as he listened, quirking his head to the side. “But – it’s only been a few months, hasn’t it?”  
  
  
Harry nodded sagely. “I know, but…I’ve been reading up on it, and – I guess some people can get sort of anxious? Like, if it doesn’t happen right away? And Louis…well, he already tends to get anxious about some things as it is, so…” he trailed off, his shoulders lifting in a weak shrug.  
  
  
Liam frowned, his brows pulling together. “You think he could be, like…blaming himself?”  
  
  
Harry stared down at the ice cubes melting in his glass, and nodded his head.  
  
  
“But – have you told him it isn’t his fault, then?”  
  
  
Harry exhaled. “I’ve…thought about it, yeah. Just – he hasn’t said anything, and I’m worried that if I’m the one to bring it up, then – in his head, he’s going to take it as me, like, _confirming_ that I’ve thought about it being his fault, even if I _say_ it’s not, and then he’ll just blame himself even more.”  
  
  
Liam’s face twisted in confusion, “mate, _what?_ ”  
  
  
Harry shook his head. “I know, I know. Look, it’s – I know it might not make much sense to anyone else but…I _know_ Louis. I know how he thinks. He gets, like, self-conscious about things, and I don’t…” he paused with a sigh, frustrated. “I’m just afraid I’m going to fuck it up, or make things worse.”  
  
  
Liam nodded sympathetically, keeping quiet to let Harry speak.  
  
  
Harry drained the rest of his glass and sank into the couch, his head tipping back to stare up at the ceiling. “It’s just…it’s _hard_. Because he’s always so hard on himself and – god, I just love him so much Liam,” he admitted, quietly, shaking his head.  
  
  
Liam reached for his empty glass, setting it down on the table. Then he nudged Harry’s thigh with his knee. “Go tell him, then.”  
  
  
Harry swallowed thickly and forced a small smile, squeezing Liam’s shoulder in a silent ‘thank you,’ before rising up from the couch.  
  
  
  
  
He slowly climbed the stairs and headed down the hall, to the only room with a light on inside, glowing faintly through a crack in the doorway. Harry peered through it, and found Louis in a familiar spot on the floor in front of the dresser, dusting the polished wood with a cloth.  
  
  
Harry smiled sadly at the sight, raising a hand to tap his knuckle against the doorframe.  
  
  
Louis startled at the sound, glancing over his shoulder. When he sees Harry, he smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.  
  
  
“Hi, baby,” Harry murmured, gently. “You coming to bed?”  
  
  
“Er, yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” Louis said, turning back to the dresser, “’m almost done.”  
  
  
Harry watched as he raised the cloth again, wiping at the dust that wasn’t there. He wanted so badly to cross the floor, scoop Louis up in his arms and carry him to bed, beg him not to blame himself anymore. He just wanted things to be _good_ again, and more than anything in this world, he wanted Louis to be happy.  
_  
  
_ But…if he brought attention to what Louis was doing by making him stop, he was sure it would only upset him. Louis was nesting as a coping mechanism, and the last thing Harry wanted was to make him feel like it was something weird, or wrong. And if it helped him feel better somehow, then why not let him continue? Who was Harry to take that away from him?  
  
  
So, he pushed away from the nursery door and headed to bed, wishing he knew what to do, and kicking himself for every word he couldn’t say.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
On Christmas Eve, Louis woke up to Harry’s lips brushing at his cheek, covering each and every bit of skin on his face with kisses. He smiled without opening his eyes, raising a hand to brush his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Morning,” he whispered, voice rough with sleep.  
  
  
“Happy birthday,” Harry said, pecking at the corner of his lips.  
  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Louis groaned, wrinkling his nose, “I’m old.”  
  
  
Harry smiled. “Twenty-one isn’t old, love.”  
  
  
“Feels like it,” Louis whispered.  
  
  
“How do you think I feel, then?” Harry chuckled. “I’ll be twenty-six in less than two months.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head. “That’s sexy, though.”  
  
  
Harry bit his lip. “Yeah?”  
  
  
“Mhmm,” Louis mused with a smirk, fingers stroking through Harry’s messy curls. “You’re getting older and scruffier, with facial hair and all. Like a proper daddy.”  
  
  
Harry’s eyes darkened at that, lingering on Louis’s mouth before slowly raking back up to his eyes. He tipped his chin, nibbling at his jaw. “Speaking of which,” he whispered, “I was going to wake you up with a blow job, but I just couldn’t stop kissing your pretty little face.”  
  
  
“How thoughtful,” Louis smirked, shaking his head. “We don’t have time, anyway. There’s so much shit to do before everyone gets here.”  
  
  
Harry started to press suckling kisses up his neck then, completely unperturbed. “Baby, you know it doesn’t take long at all once I get my mouth on you.”  
  
  
And Louis shivered as Harry slid down under the sheets, burying his head between his thighs.  
  
  
  
  
Afterwards, they took a quick shower, getting ready for the day. Their families would be arriving in just a few short hours, visiting for Christmas Eve and Louis’s birthday.  
  
  
Harry watched as Louis tugged a jumper on over his head, his wrists delicate as he fiddled with his hair. He was an absolute vision in the wintertime, always seen wearing beanies and hoodies and soft jumpers, the sleeves slipping down past his fingertips, turning his hands into little sweaterpaws. Harry felt a constant, never-ending urge to cuddle him and kiss his cheeks, tinted pink from the cold.  
  
  
He could tell that something was bothering Louis, though. He watched as he stood in front of the closet mirror, studying his reflection with a slight frown. He kept fixing his fringe, a nervous habit, tugging compulsively at the hem of his jumper. Eventually, Harry stepped up from behind, settling his hands on Louis’s hips.  
  
  
“Lou,” he murmured, gently over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
“Nothing,” Louis shook his head, looking down. “I don’t know – just…” he paused, clearing his throat. “Erm, what time are your mum and sister going to be here?”  
  
  
Harry hummed, “around three o’clock.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, chewing at his lip.  
  
  
Harry understood then. He smiled, his hands soothing at Louis’s hips. “You don’t have to be nervous, baby. They’re gonna love you.”  
  
  
Louis looked up, meeting Harry’s sincere gaze in the mirror. He smiled weakly with a nod, and leaned back against his chest.  
  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek against the top of Louis’s head with a sigh. “You know…it’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could introduce my family to. I spent so many years with meaningless flings and half-arsed relationships. My mum and Gem always hoped I would settle down one day…And then I found you,” he murmured, kissing Louis’s hair. “They’re really excited to meet you.”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, his hand sliding self-consciously to his stomach. “Do they know about…?”  
  
  
“No,” Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want to tell them we’ve been trying without asking you, first.”  
  
  
Louis nodded, relieved. “I think…think I’d like to wait until I’m actually pregnant before we tell anyone else. If that’s alright?”  
  
  
Harry nodded easily. “’course, love. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He dropped another kiss to his hair and then turned away to root through his wardrobe, and Louis watched as he pulled on one of his ridiculous Christmas sweaters. This one was dark blue and knitted with a reindeer on the front, wearing a Santa hat. Louis just shook his head, fondly.  
  
  
Harry combed his fingers through his hair, parting it to one side so it fell in waves at his shoulders. “I’m nervous too, by the way,” he said then. “About meeting your mum.”  
  
  
Louis looked at him skeptically. “Why?”  
  
  
Harry raised his brow, as if it should be obvious. “I took your virginity!” he exclaimed, waving his hands in the air. “I – I’ve plugged you up and spanked your arse, for god’s sake! I feel like I’ve…defiled her son.”  
  
  
Louis snorted a laugh. “Defiled?”  
  
  
“Corrupted,” Harry added then, tugging at his collar as he spritzed on some Dior cologne. “Tarnished your innocence.”  
  
  
Louis cocked his hip. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was more than willing to let you ‘defile’ me.”  
  
  
Harry shook his head. “That won’t make me feel better when I’m sitting across from your mum at Christmas dinner.”  
  
  
Louis bit his lip, his eyes glittering mischievously, “…imagine if I called you _Daddy_ in front of her.”  
  
  
Harry looked like he was about to have a heart attack at that and Louis laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m _kidding_ ,” he said.  
  
  
Harry exhaled deeply and shook his head, stepping closer to wrap his hands around Louis’s hips. “You’re gonna kill me, one of these days.”  
  
  
Louis smiled, peering up at him from under his lashes. “I promise, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”  
  
  
Harry stared down at him for a long moment, his lips turned up in a smirk, before murmuring, “I know you will, baby.” Then he turned to exit the closet, giving Louis’s bottom a little slap on his way out.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
The rest of the morning supplied all of the usual chaos of the holidays. They hurried to ready the house before their families showed up, sweeping the front patio and shoveling snow from the steps. Harry spent most of the time in the kitchen, in charge of preparing the turkey, while Louis helped out with some of the side dishes. Meanwhile, Zayn and Liam tidied up the den, setting out an assortment of drinks at the minibar. At Harry’s insistence, the overhead speaker system of the house played a near constant loop of Christmas music, much to Zayn’s dismay.  
  
  
Louis skirted down the hallway, rushing to make sure all the bathrooms were properly stocked with hand soap and toilet tissue, when Harry suddenly appeared from around the corner and caught him by the sleeve, tugging him back to his side.  
  
  
Louis slid to a halt, his brow arched in question. He watched as Harry silently raised his hand, pointing a single finger. And Louis looked up to find that he had pinned a bit of mistletoe to the ceiling.  
  
  
When he lowered his gaze again, he was met with Harry, watching him expectantly, a cheeky grin on his face and his hands folded behind his back. Louis rolled his eyes, standing up on his toes to peck a kiss to his lips. Harry wouldn’t let him get away with just a peck though, wrapping Louis up in his arms as he sought out his mouth again.  
  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” Louis whispered against his lips, but he was smiling.  
  
  
Harry smiled back, humming into the kiss.  
  
  
“Tell me,” Louis murmured, as Harry’s lips moved up to his cheek. “What happens if I pass through this hallway with Zayn, or maybe Liam? Would I have to kiss them, too?”  
  
  
Harry made a low, possessive noise in his throat and tightened his arms around him, nipping gently at his bottom lip. “Think you already know the answer to that,” he said. “Nobody gets to kiss you but me.”  
  
  
Louis just smiled, reveling in all of the affection before he finally managed to pull himself away and get back to work.  
  
  
  
  
The doorbell rang for the first time at half-past two, and Louis’s mum arrived with all of the girls in tow. Together, the five of them practically launched themselves at Harry, smothering him with hugs and giggles and introductions, their excited voices shouting over each other all at once. The twins seemed to really take to him, each holding onto one of his hands as he gave a quick tour of the downstairs’ of the house. Louis trailed behind, his heart actually _bursting_ out of his chest, watching as Harry walked with his little sisters, half-bent over and speaking in a gentle voice.  
  
  
While Harry showed the girls to the Christmas tree in the den, Louis hung back a bit to give his mum another long, lingering hug.  
  
  
She patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “He’s lovely,” she whispered, as they finally pulled apart. “You didn’t tell me he was so good with children.”  
  
  
Louis shook his head, radiating fond as he glanced back at Harry with the twins, who were now stood up on the couch, draping a string of tinsel around his shoulders. “…I had no idea,” he murmured, softly.  
  
  
  
  
  
By mid-afternoon, the house was in full swing Christmas-mode. Liam and Zayn’s families arrived shortly after Louis’s did, filling the house with endless chatter and the smell of baked goods. They hurried to set the table; Harry ladled some gravy into a serving dish, carrying it out to the dining room before dashing back into the kitchen while Louis scurried after him, helping with the roasted potatoes.  
  
  
Harry was checking on the turkey when the doorbell rang for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I’ll get it,” he called, hastily untying the apron that was wrapped around his waist. He tossed it onto the worktop and slipped into the foyer.  
  
  
When he pulled open the door, his mum, stepdad, Gemma, and Gemma’s husband stood on the step, each holding various casserole dishes, their faces pink from the snow that was beginning to fall. “Merry Christmas!” they called in unison, and Harry smiled broadly, stepping aside to welcome them in.  
  
  
They hung up their coats and then followed him through the hall into the dining room to set down the dishes they had brought. They all took turns giving hugs, catching up with each other quickly.  
  
  
Gemma bounced excitedly on her toes, peering over Harry’s shoulder. “So, where is he?”  
  
  
Harry chuckled, holding up his hands. “Be gentle with him, yeah? He’s nervous,” he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate. He motioned for them to follow him back into the hall where it was secluded and quiet, knowing Louis would prefer that. “Wait here, I’ll go get him,” he said, and then he made his way back through the house, scanning the crowded downstairs’ for Louis.  
  
  
It didn’t take long to find him. He was stood in the den, watching with a soft expression as his sisters investigated the pile of gifts under the tree. Harry slowly stepped up from behind, slipping an arm around his waist. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, pecking a kiss to Louis’s hair. “Mum and Gems are here.”  
  
  
Louis gave a small smile and nodded his head, following Harry out of the den with their hands linked between them. Harry walked slowly for Louis’s sake, giving his palm a squeeze to help calm his nerves, as they stepped into the hall where Harry’s mum and sister were waiting.  
  
  
Harry was grateful that they didn’t pounce on Louis, or overwhelm him in any way. Instead, they were all soft smiles and warm, welcoming hugs, making easy conversation. Harry kept an arm around him the whole time, a steady weight at his side, making sure he was comfortable.  
  
  
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Gemma said to their mum, and Louis went a bit pink, still flustered and nervous and compulsively fiddling with his fringe, but the smile on his face was genuine.  
  
  
Soon enough, Liam was announcing that dinner was ready, and everyone flocked to the dining room in a wave of clatter and commotion, raving about how good the food looked and how hungry they were after the long drive.  
  
  
Harry and Louis hung back in the hall for a quiet moment, Louis still holding him around the waist. “…They’re really nice,” he whispered, nosing at Harry’s chest.  
  
  
Harry smiled down at him fondly, tipping his chin to kiss the top of his head. “Told you they’d love you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
After dinner, everyone gradually migrated to the den, their glasses filled with sparkling cider and eggnog. They exchanged the small mountain of gifts that were stacked under the tree, while _It’s a Wonderful Life_ played on the television in the background, flickering in shades of black and white.  
  
  
Everyone was either tipsy from the cider or drunk on Christmas cheer, while all of the children sat around in groups, having a bit of show-and-tell with their gifts. Louis stayed close to his mum’s side for most of the night. He was happy to be able to give her and his sisters some nice presents for once, although he also felt guilty that it was all paid for with Harry’s credit card. _Everything I have is yours_ , Harry had told him, but…still.  
  
  
Eventually, Louis slid out from under his mum’s arm and hopped up from the couch to refill his glass with cider. When he came back, his eyes skimmed the room for Harry, spotting him near the edge of the den.  
  
  
He was standing with a small group of people, all surrounding Gemma. She was seven months pregnant and positively gleaming, her stomach round and full under a beige cardigan. Pregnancies always seemed to attract attention during holidays, and sure enough, people gathered around in groups, asking her questions about her due date and gender reveal and food cravings, their hands reaching out in hopes of feeling a tiny kick.  
  
  
Louis hung back a bit, trying to ignore the slight ache he felt in his gut. It was still a touchy subject for him, the negative pregnancy tests shoved in the bottom of the upstairs’ bin still a cold reminder of what he wanted more than anything, and didn’t have.  
  
  
From a distance, he watched as Harry touched a hand to Gemma’s bump, whispering down to the little niece or nephew that was cradled inside, his face brimming with affection. Louis felt a sharp tug on his heart at that, and had to look away.  
  
  
He hated himself for feeling jealous of Gemma’s bump, of everything he had been trying for and still couldn’t give to himself, or more importantly, to Harry. So many times now, he had seen the way Harry’s eyes lit up when they went shopping for baby clothes, or set up the nursery, or talked about possible baby names. He knew exactly how excited Harry was to have a baby, could see how soft and gentle and loving he turned towards all things pregnancy and babies and baby bumps. He was seeing it now, right before his eyes.  
  
  
And Louis couldn’t give him that. He couldn’t give him anything.  
  
  
He backed away from the small crowd of their families, a sudden sadness welling up inside of him that he couldn’t shake. There was a part of him that wished he could escape from all of the noise and holiday cheer and just disappear upstairs to the nursery, where he could be alone in the quiet. Where he could fold clothes, and dust shelves, and straighten the linens, and try to make everything perfect, so that maybe he could forget how incredibly imperfect he was. And maybe then, if everything else was just right – if he could just make everything _perfect_ , then maybe that last, most important piece would finally fall into place.  
  
  
He couldn’t do that, though. He couldn’t just disappear, couldn’t leave his mum and sisters behind on Christmas. And even if he could, Harry would notice his absence right away and come looking for him, and Louis just couldn’t stand to see that worried look in Harry’s eyes, anymore.  
  
  
So he forced a smile and sat down by himself in a chair in the corner, feeling terribly alone in a room full of people.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
By half-past ten, the house had finally cleared out, with everyone sparing a few last goodbye hugs in the foyer before they slipped on their coats and hurried to where their cars were parked on the drive. Harry turned off the Christmas music, leaving the house hushed and quiet in a way they hadn’t seen since early that morning. He locked the doors and set the alarm system, stretching his arms up over his head with a yawn. “Think we should start on the mess?”  
  
  
Louis shook his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Let’s just go to bed.”  
  
  
With a nod, Harry turned out the kitchen lights. He was expecting Louis to be waiting for him in the hall like always, but this time, he went on alone, already halfway up the stairs. Harry faltered at that, bemused, before following after him.  
  
  
They brushed their teeth and changed into their pyjamas, getting ready for bed. It was snowing particularly hard outside, the breeze knocking against the window, leaving a chill across the house that went straight to Louis’s fingers and toes. Lately, Harry had been turning on the gas fireplace at night, filling up the bedroom with a bit of warmth while they slept, and tonight was no exception. The flames roared in the hearth, throwing shadows across the far wall.  
  
  
Louis shivered as he crawled into bed, tugging the thick comforter up to his chin.  
  
  
“Fuck, it’s cold,” Harry muttered, climbing in after him. He reached out for Louis under the sheets, quickly gathering him up in his arms and spooning him in from behind. Louis didn’t say anything, just let himself be held.  
  
  
Something didn’t feel right.  
  
  
For the past few hours – not long after dinner ended, it seemed – Louis had been acting very quiet and withdrawn. And Harry wasn’t sure why.  
  
  
He nuzzled at the top of his head, his hands soft on his belly, “…you okay?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis nodded, reaching down to link their fingers together, “just tired.”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
_  
Louis wakes up alone, the bed empty and cold. He searches for Harry under the sheets, reaching out a hand to his side of the bed, blindly feeling. His fingers clench around nothing, finding no warmth there, not a single trace of Harry’s scent on the pillowcase.  
  
  
Disoriented, Louis blinks awake, sitting up in bed. Looking around, the room is silent and so incredibly still, as if frozen in time.  
  
  
“…Harry?” he calls.  
  
  
There is no answer.  
  
  
With a frown, he pushes back the sheets and crawls out of bed, touching his toes to the carpet. Everything looks different, somehow. It isn’t snowing outside anymore. In fact, the sun is shining brighter than anything Louis has seen even on the clearest of summer days, falling through the windows in thin, pallid sheets.  
  
  
All colour is drained from the room, leaving the spaces pale and ghostly white, blurring at the edges. The shoes he had left near the closet the night before are missing. On the nightstand by the bed, the framed photograph of Harry and Louis that used to sit below the lamp is gone.  
  
  
With a frown, Louis pads to the en-suite in search of Harry. Maybe he’s taking a shower. He pokes his head around the door but finds the bathroom empty, the smallest of sounds echoing off the tile.  
  
  
It’s so quiet.  
  
  
Confused, he turns, heading out of the bedroom. His feet seem to glide across the floor, as if he were walking on clouds, weightless.  
  
  
“Harry?” he calls again.  
  
  
Still, no answer.  
  
  
He heads down the hall and pushes open the door to Harry’s office, finds it empty inside, everything white. There’s no one here.  
  
  
The silence is unlike anything Louis can remember, so terribly unnerving. It fades out into white noise, cold and nameless and blank. The couch where Louis usually sits while Harry works is gone, an empty space left behind. He frowns, a wave of unease settling over him, like the touch of a ghost.  
  
  
Faintly, he hears a voice from somewhere down the hall, soft like a murmur, muffled behind a door—_ Harry _. He follows after it, his ears fixated on that sound, his feet carrying him of their own accord now, suddenly desperate. He has to keep going, has to find him.  
  
  
He follows the sound until he finds himself standing outside of the nursery room door, where soft murmurs can still be heard inside – Harry’s voice, and then a second voice, unfamiliar. And then there’s a whimper from something small.  
  
  
He raises his palm, not touching. The door swings open on its own.  
  
  
Inside, Harry stands beside the bassinette, something cradled in his arms, swaddled in blankets. To his left is someone Louis doesn’t recognise – someone who looks quite similar to himself, but fitter, better. Perfect.  
  
  
They don’t notice Louis there, don’t react to his presence. He stands invisible in the doorway, watching as Harry coos down to the baby in his arms, his face glowing, eyes overflowing with fond. His gaze slowly shifts to the look-alike, and Louis watches as he tips his chin, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  
  
  
“I love you,” Harry murmurs, in that gentle way Louis has heard from him so many times before.  
  
  
This time, his words aren’t for Louis.  
  
  
It’s enough to make his heart stutter to a halt before Louis feels his insides clawing at him, threatening to tear him apart. He wants to run but he’s frozen in place, unable to move, his limbs not responding anymore. He’s paralysed, watching the scene play out in front of him, like some bizarre form of torture. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, as if he were underwater. Drowning.  
  
  
Panicked, he feels his throat closing up and struggles for air, can’t seem to get enough in his lungs, and then he’s screaming without a sound, screaming in silence.  
  
  
His vision is closing in around him, blurry around the edges, where everything is blinding, and cold, and white.  
  
  
  
_  
  
With a jolt, Louis wakes, a cold sweat clinging to the back of his t-shirt. It’s dark again, snow tapping against the windowsill while the fire still burns inside the hearth. The framed photograph is back on the nightstand. The blinding light is gone.  
  
  
Louis is shaking, can’t stop shaking, his breathing shallow and his heart still pounding against his ribcage.  
  
  
It felt so _real_.  
  
  
He takes a deep breath and when he looks down, he’s amazed to find Harry’s arm is still draped around his middle. He was so sure that he was alone – that Harry had finally had enough, and left.  
  
  
He rolls over, has to see it with his own eyes to believe it, and sure enough, Harry is still there, right where he left him, sound asleep and snuffling softly into the pillow.  
  
  
So why does he feel so far away?  
  
  
_It was just a dream_ , Louis tells himself, but he’s so fucking _rattled_ by it. Those images keep echoing at the front of his mind, cruel and relentless, taunting him like a child. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, and before he can stop it, that cold, anxious feeling starts to close in on him once again. He can’t ignore it, anymore.  
  
  
In the back of his head, that awful voice is hissing at him, and he’s helpless against it. He’s so fucking helpless, staring at Harry’s beautiful face in the dark.  
  
  
_He’s going to leave you. You know he is.  
  
  
_ It comes crashing down on him from all sides, even though Harry is _right there_. Close enough to touch. And still, Louis feels a thousand miles away, like he’ll never be able to reach him. Like he’ll never be enough to keep him.  
  
  
He shakes his head, tries to quiet the voice, push away the feeling, but he just can’t do it anymore. It’s gotten too strong, and it’s all becoming real. Right now, more than ever before, it feels like he’s about to lose Harry, and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do – how to stop it.  
  
  
With a whimper, he slips out from under Harry’s arm and pushes back the sheets, stumbling quietly from the bed.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry isn’t sure why he finds himself waking up at nearly two o’clock in the morning until he realises Louis isn’t in bed. He rolls over and shoves his face into the pillow, unperturbed, figuring he must be using the bathroom. When he doesn’t come back after a few minutes, Harry furrows his brow and lifts his head again, glancing bleerily around the room. “Lou?”  
  
  
There’s no answer.  
  
  
With a frown, Harry pushes back the sheets and gets up, shuddering a bit as the cold air in the room hits his skin.  
  
  
It’s dark inside the en-suite. He flicks on the light, peeking his head around the door. Still, there’s no sign of Louis. Harry pauses, confused, all semblances of sleep quickly evaporating. Without another thought, he turns on his heel, his pulse flickering with worry as he hurries to exit the bedroom.  
  
  
He’s about halfway to the door when he realises he knows exactly where Louis might be.  
  
  
  
The house is dark and still with the night, so quiet his footsteps are loud on the carpet, as Harry wanders down the hallway with his arms folded over his chest to ward off the cold. His suspicion is confirmed when he rounds the corner and reaches the nursery, where a tiny bit of light is glowing from the crack under the door. He smiles a little sadly, before nudging the door open with a small knock.  
  
  
He was expecting to find Louis in one of his usual spots, tidying up around the dresser, or maybe reading in the rocking chair by the window.  
  
  
What he finds instead stops him dead in the doorway.  
  
  
Up against the far wall is Louis, sitting alone on the nursery floor. His head is bowed, staring down at his lap with his fringe falling over his eyes. His legs are folded and his shoulders are hunched, curling in on himself, looking so incredibly small.  
  
  
“Louis?” Harry asks, caught off guard, “baby, what—?” His words wither and die in his throat when he sees it. Abandoned on the floor beside Louis is a pregnancy test, a negative sign glowing faintly on the screen.  
  
  
Harry’s heart gives a painful jolt before sinking down into his stomach. He can’t see Louis’s face, but he’s honestly afraid of what he’d find there if he could – he doesn’t think he can stand it. “Oh, Louis…” he murmurs, stepping closer before he drops down to his knees at his side. “ _Baby_.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t look up, just keeps staring down at his lap, where he’s holding something in his hands. “I don’t understand,” he whispers, his voice so little and feeble it’s almost unrecognisable.  
  
  
Harry frowns, watching Louis carefully. He looks so lost, and _wounded_ , and Harry can’t take it. Before they went to bed tonight, he had a feeling that something was wrong, but nothing could have prepared him for this – for Louis looking so helpless and broken on the nursery floor. It’s heart wrenching. And before he can manage to find his voice to say something, Louis is speaking again.  
  
  
“I don’t understand why it’s not working,” he whispers. “We’ve been trying so hard.”  
  
  
It’s then that Harry realises what Louis has cradled in his lap, and he feels his heart actually _shatter_ into pieces at the sight…It’s the baby onesie Harry gave to him, with a yellow duckling sewn onto the front.  
  
  
“I just want a baby,” Louis whispers, infinitesimal. “Why is that so hard?”  
  
  
Harry swallows audibly, his chest aching and his mind reeling, trying to think of the best way to approach this. He reaches out a hand, touching Louis’s thigh. “Louis – baby, it’s…these things take time, remember?” he offers, carefully. He’s trying to keep calm, but he can hear the worry in his own voice. “It doesn’t always happen right away. We just have to keep trying. It’s – it’s okay.”  
  
  
For a long moment, Louis shakes his head, his shoulders sagging in on himself, “…I feel like it’s _me._ Like it will just never happen because I’m – because I _can’t_ —”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “Louis, you don’t know that. We would have to go see a doctor to find that out,” he reasons. “Besides…even if there _were_ something wrong here…who’s to say it’s you? It could be me. I could be the one with the problem.”  
  
  
Louis just keeps shaking his head. “It’s not you,” he whispers, drawing in a shuddered breath. “It _can’t_ be you…you’re perfect.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, his heart breaking. “I’m not perfect, love. Not at all. And neither are you, and I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he tells him, hoping to god Louis will believe him. He tightens his hand on his thigh. “I love you, Louis.”  
  
  
Louis gets quiet after that. The nightlight that’s plugged into the far wall spins in slow circles, casting little cut-out shapes across the ceiling—shooting stars and clouds and half-moons. They go completely unnoticed, as Harry can’t take his eyes off of Louis. He watches as he traces the duck outline on the baby onesie with his fingertip, hears him let out a tiny _sniffle_ , and Harry is fucking done for. He absolutely _cannot_ handle Louis crying.  
  
  
“Baby…” Harry murmurs, feeling close to tears himself.  
  
  
Louis whimpers, clutching at the onesie in his hands, his eyes downcast. “ _I’m sorry_.”  
  
  
Harry looks at him in deep concern, uneasy about where this could be heading. “Wh-what do you mean? Sorry for what?”  
  
  
“Because…” Louis shakes his head, “I know how much you want a baby.”  
  
  
Harry’s heart drops at that, a cold, sinking feeling coming over him all at once. He figured, of course, that Louis was blaming himself in all of this, but it never occurred to him that he might actually be blaming himself for what he thought he couldn’t give to _Harry_. He shakes his head, at a total loss. “Louis…” he breathes, “I – baby, you don’t have anything to apologise for. This – this isn’t your fault.”  
  
  
Louis crumples at that, pulling his knees up to his chest. He lets out a small sob, muffled into the baby onesie.  
  
  
Harry nearly breaks, a hard lump rising in his throat. He swallows around it, feeling a bit panicked. “Louis, _please_ …I – it’s _killing_ me to watch you blame yourself like this. It’s not your fault, baby, I swear it isn’t,” he pleads, sounding slightly choked. “It’s okay. I promise, everything’s going to be ok—”  
  
  
Harry’s words fade out as Louis slams his small fist against the floor, finally looking up at him. “Just _stop_ , Harry! Stop trying to act like it’s all okay!”  
  
  
Harry blanches at the look on Louis’s face. His eyes are puffy and red, brimming with tears, staining his cheeks. And then he’s speaking again, his voice heavy with so much frustration and pain and _hurt_.  
  
  
“I _know_ how much you want a baby, Harry. I’ve _s-seen_ it. I saw how excited you were the day we went shopping – you looked so _h-happy_. Always touching my stomach and talking about the baby. You said yourself that you couldn’t wait to get me pregnant. So what if you _can’t?_ What if it’s _me?_ ”  
  
  
Harry goes rigid, hair prickling at the back of his neck as he listens, horrified, Louis’s words hitting him like a steel punch to the gut. His jaw goes slack, his blood running cold, like he’s just been doused with ice water. He feels fucking sick. “Oh my god,” he whispers, guilt churning around like acid in his stomach. “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”  
  
  
Louis gasps, his eyes widening. “I didn’t mean it like that—”  
  
  
“But it’s true, Louis,” he breathes, shaking his head, the revelation dawning on him like a slap to the face. “It’s…I’ve put too much pressure on you. I mean – _fuck_ , I – I must have made you feel like _shit!_ ” he exclaims, his heart racing, anger coursing fast through his veins now.  
  
  
“Harry, _no_ —”  
  
  
“And that night – you pushed my hands away from your stomach…I didn’t even _realise_. What the fuck is wrong with me?”  
  
  
“It’s not your fault—”  
  
  
Harry cuts him off, his breathing quickening and his voice rising several octaves, seeping with frustration. “And for fuck’s sake, Louis, _I’m_ the one who made us _wait_ those three months! You didn’t even _want_ to wait – _that was all me!_ ” he shouts, shoving himself hard in the chest.  
  
  
Louis keeps shaking his head, wringing his hands. “You had every right to—”  
  
  
“If we would have started trying back then, maybe it would have happened by now, and you wouldn’t have to sit here feeling like this! Because of _ME!_ I can’t _FUCKING_ believe it!”  
  
  
His words echo from the ceiling, hanging stiffly in the air. He bangs his head hard on the wall behind him, missing the way it makes Louis flinch, before he’s speaking again, his words laced with self-loathing. “I’ve watched you come in here every single day, Louis. I _knew_ something was wrong. And I did fuck all about it. How could I be so goddamn careless?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head in protest, his lip trembling, “you’re _not,_ Harry! You’re really not… I _told_ you... _It’s not you!_ ”  
  
  
Harry just keeps shaking his head in disbelief, his hands clenched into helpless fists at his sides, ready to kick his own arse, tear himself part. He runs through it all in his mind – every mistake he’s made, every way he’s hurt Louis. And still, all this time – even _now_ , Louis has been putting all of the blame on himself.  
  
  
Harry drags a hand down over his face before tilting his chin up, his chest falling with each breath, guilt weighing heavily in his gut. He swallows hard, his jaw clenched. And after a long moment he speaks again, his voice soft and bitter now. “I’ve told you so many times that when we got together, I made it my priority to keep you happy and safe – to _take care_ of you – and I fucking failed,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “I couldn’t even help you when I knew you were hurting.”  
  
  
Tears are trickling down Louis’s cheeks now. He shakes his head, looking pleadingly up at Harry. “Please, don’t,” he says, barely a whisper.  
  
  
Harry sighs, his gaze shifting back to Louis. His heart jumps up into his throat when he sees him shaking, and he realises, belatedly, that the anger and involuntary dominant vibes his body has been giving off are only upsetting Louis more.  
  
  
He feels an inherent need to reach out for him but stops himself, uncertain if Louis even wants to be touched. “Shit – Louis…I’m sorry, baby, I shouldn’t have shouted like that.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, his eyes downcast, hands still cradling the baby onesie in his lap.  
  
  
Harry’s shoulders slump, guiltily, clenching his fingers to keep from reaching out. “I’m not mad at you, Louis. Not at all. You’ve done nothing wrong. _Nothing_. I’m only angry with myself. Just – please tell me you know that?”  
  
  
Louis nods, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. And Harry’s anger evaporates just as quickly as it appeared, only to be replaced by the thrumming pain that comes with seeing Louis cry. Seeing the boy he loves with his whole heart, looking so incredibly broken.  
  
  
He never knew it would hurt this much. Every natural born instinct in Harry’s body is screaming at him to hold Louis, and comfort him, and take away whatever it is that’s hurting him. He knows he would shoulder all of it if he could, all of the pain. He’d take the full force of it all on himself in a heartbeat, if it meant Louis didn’t have to feel like this anymore.  
  
  
He makes a silent promise to himself to never let Louis feel this broken, ever again. Not if he can help it.  
  
  
Harry turns to face him, still keeping a careful arm’s length between them. His hands shake, wanting so badly to hold him, but he doesn’t think he deserves it right now. He can’t believe Louis is even still willing to sit here with him, not after what he’s done – how much he’s failed him. He shifts so that he’s down on his knees in front of Louis, looking him straight in the eyes, his chest aching, and Louis’s breath catches.  
  
  
“Louis, I am so sorry,” Harry says, emphatically, baring his hands. “I should have talked to you sooner. I knew you were feeling stressed but I was too afraid to say anything. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”  
  
  
Louis just keeps shaking his head, “no,” he insists, his voice thick with tears.  
  
  
“No, Louis,” Harry reaffirms. “I sat around and did nothing while you were hurting and that only made you hurt even more. I can never forgive myself for that.”  
  
  
Louis frowns, a tear dripping down from his chin. “It’s not you,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to blame yourself.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, sadly. “I don’t want you to blame yourself, either, baby. I – listen…we – obviously we haven’t done a good job of communicating with each other about this stuff. But we’re talking now, yeah? Everything’s going to be okay. I love you. It’s okay.”  
  
  
Louis’s chin wobbles at that, fresh tears welling up in his eyes, while Harry looks on with the most pained expression, still unsure if he wants to be touched. But then Louis’s arms are lifting, reaching out for Harry, seeking comfort, and Harry doesn’t waste another second. He gathers Louis up in his arms and pulls him onto his lap, cradling him against his chest, and Louis goes easily, looping his arms around his middle, his hands fisting in Harry’s shirt.  
  
  
Harry can practically feel the pain radiating from Louis’s body and it has another lump rising in his throat. He rocks him gently back and forth, letting Louis cry into his chest. He takes a deep breath, letting his own tears fall, letting it all go.  
  
  
They sit like that for a long time, Harry holding Louis on the nursery floor, soft and soothing, peppering the top of his head with kisses and murmuring words of comfort. He waits until Louis’s cries have quieted from broken sobs to a few quiet sniffles before speaking again, tipping his chin to nose at his hair. “Baby,” Harry whispers, “could you talk to me? Tell me how you’ve been feeling?”  
  
  
Louis exhales shakily, letting out another little sniffle before his shoulders lift in a shrug. “Just – I don’t know, it…I guess it started the night I took those first two tests. They turned out negative, and that’s what I was expecting, but I just – just had this really bad feeling afterwards. I don’t know. I couldn’t explain it.”  
  
  
Harry nods along as he listens, remembering, “…that was the same night you asked if I was getting tired of you?” he whispers, slowly piecing it all together.  
  
  
Louis sighs, nodding. “I – that was…part of it, yeah. All the bad stuff I was thinking. Like…maybe since we had been trying so much you would end up getting bored, or wouldn’t – wouldn’t want to have sex with me, anymore,” Louis whispers, his eyes clenched shut and his voice terribly small, like he’s embarrassed to hear himself say it out loud.  
  
  
Harry frowns, rubbing at the small of his back. “But it was more than that?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, nodding his head. “I didn’t – I guess I didn’t realise what it was at the time. I thought, like, maybe it was just some random feeling I had. And…and you definitely made me feel wanted that night,” he explains, his face heating up a bit. “But – the feeling just kept coming back and I tried to ignore it, but it just made me feel so…like, I don’t know? I just kept thinking all this _awful_ shit about myself. And…” he pauses, chewing at his lip.  
  
  
Harry kisses the top of his head. “What is it?”  
  
  
“…I kept thinking you would end up wanting to leave. Like – leave me,” Louis whispers, his voice tiny and hidden against Harry’s collarbone.  
  
  
Harry listens, his heart positively _aching_. He tightens his arms around him. “Louis…” he breathes, shaking his head, “baby, I—”  
  
  
Louis cuts him off. “It’s stupid, I know,” he mutters, shying away.  
  
  
“It’s not stupid, Louis,” Harry tells him. “Nothing you feel is stupid. I should have talked to you sooner. I _never_ should have been so careless. But…baby, listen to me…I’m not going anywhere, you have to know that.”  
  
  
Louis’s hand reaches out at that, fisting in Harry’s t-shirt.  
  
  
Harry rubs at his hip, comforting. “Go on,” he murmurs, urging Louis to continue, even though it’s painful for him to hear.  
  
  
Louis clears his throat. “Erm, I took more tests thinking it would just fix itself, but they just kept turning up negative and I started to think, like… ‘what if it never happens?’ and then,” he paused, swallowing thickly, “that changed to ‘it’s never going to happen,’ and I just…felt even worse.”  
  
  
With a heavy heart, Harry looks to the pregnancy test that’s still lying nearby on the floor, “…and you took this one tonight?”  
  
  
Louis just nods.  
  
  
Harry sighs. “I should have talked to you sooner,” he laments, guiltily. “You know…I read about this in one of the books. That some people can start to feel anxious if it doesn’t happen right away. What you’ve been feeling is totally natural, baby. It’s okay.”  
  
  
Louis sniffles at that, biting his lip. “I read that too, but…I don’t know. I was still _sure_ there was something wrong with me.”  
  
  
Harry is shaking his head before the words have even left his lips. “Louis, there’s nothing wrong with you.”  
  
  
“You don’t know that,” Louis protests weakly, getting choked up again, “you said it yourself, we’d have to see a doctor to find out.”  
  
  
“We can do that,” Harry offers. “It’s totally up to you. Whatever you want, love.”  
  
  
Louis gnaws at his lip, pushing his face into Harry’s neck, “…I’m scared.”  
  
  
“Scared?”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Scared to find out,” he whispers, his voice wet with tears. “Scared because, what if there really is something wrong?”  
  
  
Harry kisses his hair. “Then I’ll find a specialist and get you the best support and treatments available. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And if that still doesn’t work, then it’s okay. It doesn’t change who you are.”  
  
  
Louis’s fingers tug at Harry’s t-shirt, nervous,“…and…you’d stay with me?” he whispers, tentatively, like he’s afraid to hear the answer.  
  
  
“ _Always_ ,” Harry says, nodding firmly. “It doesn’t matter to me, Louis. None of it matters. You are the most important thing in my life, and that’s not going to change. Not for anything.”  
  
  
Louis sniffles, inhaling sharply before he lets out a small sob, his shoulders shaking with it as he tightens his arms around Harry again. Another lump rises in Harry’s throat and he holds Louis even tighter, smothering the top of his head with needy kisses. “I love you _so_ much, Louis…I – fuck, I’m so sorry…I can’t forgive myself for letting you think for one _second_ that I would ever leave you.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, wiping roughly at his eyes. “I told you, it’s not you, Harry. It’s just – it’s all in my head,” he sighs, taking a deep breath. His fingers pinch at Harry’s t-shirt, and after a long moment, he adds, “I – after we fell asleep I had this really terrible dream.”  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound, “what about?”  
  
  
Louis exhales, shakily. “Just – I woke up and you were gone. Like, I was in our room but everything looked different and I couldn’t – couldn’t find you. So I just kept looking and…” he trails off with a shudder, burying his face in Harry’s shirt.  
  
  
Harry rubs at his hip, soothing.  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath before he’s speaking again, “And then…I found you in here. In the nursery. You were with someone else and – and you had a baby with him,” Louis whispers, his voice so soft and so broken that Harry physically feels his heart clench in his chest. “You looked so h-happy and – and it felt so _real_. It was just like – like everything I’ve been feeling lately just thrown in my face. You wouldn’t even look at me, you just…left.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, recoiling at the thought, his arms automatically tightening around Louis again. “Baby, _never_. Never, ever.” He rocks him back and forth, listening as Louis sniffles quietly into his t-shirt, clinging to Harry.  
  
  
“Look at me,” Harry eventually whispers, pulling Louis gently from his chest to see his face. His hair is tousled and the tip of his nose is red and his eyes are puffy with tears and Harry is so fucking in love with him, he feels weak with it. He lifts his palm to cup Louis’s cheek, thumbing at the wetness there. “You won’t lose me,” he whispers, with a resolute shake of his head. “I’m not leaving unless you tell me to.” He holds Louis’s gaze, the corner of his lips quirking up a bit. “And even then, ‘m gonna put up a bit of a fight.”  
  
  
Louis’s chin wobbles before his face finally breaks into a smile – a watery, tearful little giggle, and it’s the most beautiful sound Harry’s ever known. He can’t stop staring at him, can’t find a single thing that isn’t worth loving.  
  
  
He thinks he would give up everything, if Louis asked him to.  
  
  
It’s quiet for a moment while Harry brushes Louis’s fringe back from his eyes, his fingers soft, “…can I kiss you?” he whispers, a little unsure.  
  
  
Louis smiles a crinkly-eyed smile, biting at his lip before nodding his head. And Harry leans forward, wrapping Louis up in his arms and pecking softly at his lips. Louis kisses back, gently, his arms going around Harry’s neck. It feels like a weight has finally been lifted, the storm clouds clearing away, and they fall into each other, hugging and holding and healing, Harry kissing at the corners of Louis’s lips and nosing at his cheeks, at the little star constellation of freckles by his mouth.  
  
  
And suddenly, everything is the way it’s supposed to be – and it’s _good_ , and it’s right, and it’s perfect, all over again.  
  
  
  
  
  
Eventually, Harry pushes up from the floor, Louis still cradled in his arms. He carries him back down the hall to their bedroom, tucking the door closed behind them.  
  
  
“m’cold,” Louis whispers, his face pressed against Harry’s neck.  
  
  
“D’you wanna sit by the fire for a bit?”  
  
  
Louis gives a quiet nod and Harry gently sets him down on his feet. Then he strips the fluffy down comforter from the bed, laying it out on the floor in front of the fireplace. Harry sits down, beckoning Louis closer with his hand. “C’mere, baby.”  
  
  
Slowly, Louis comes to him, padding barefoot on the carpet before sitting across from Harry on the blanket. He turns to face him and Harry watches the glow from the fire wash over one side of his face, lighting up the smooth cut of his cheekbone and the tip of his nose, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks, still a bit damp from when he had cried in Harry’s arms. He’s beautiful. It’s impossible to look away.  
  
  
“Feel any better?” Harry murmurs.  
  
  
Louis nods, sighing heavily. “A lot better, actually. It feels good to not have it all kept inside, anymore,” he says, staring into the flames, contemplative. “It’s just…I don’t know,” he trails off, shaking his head.  
  
  
Harry frowns. “What is it?”  
  
  
Louis’s brow furrows. “Guess I just feel…I don’t know? Selfish, or like, ungrateful, maybe? Like…I know there’s loads of people who’ve spent a lot longer trying to get pregnant than I have. Years, even. And so it’s like…what right do I have to feel like this after just a few months?”  
  
  
Harry smiles, sadly. “You don’t have to feel guilty, Louis. Even if others have had it worse. It doesn’t take away from your own experience. Everything you’re feeling is valid—all of it.”  
  
  
Louis exhales and then shakes his head in slight disbelief, his lips tugging up in a smile. “Don’t know how I ever got lucky enough to have you,” he admits, quietly.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head right back. “I reckon I’m the lucky one.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip on a grin at that, and Harry watches as he pushes up onto his knees, before closing that small bit of space between them. Harry opens his arms and Louis crawls back into his lap, facing him, with the fire still alive beside them. Louis cradles Harry’s face in his hands, his eyes wide and full of open adoration, before pulling him into a kiss.  
  
  
Harry responds in earnest, tugging him even closer, letting their lips brush together, soft and open. Louis’s fingers stroke through his tangled hair, pulling back a bit, until Harry can see the flames reflected in his eyes. “I love you,” Louis whispers.  
  
  
Harry grins, nuzzling at him. “m’gonna love you for the rest of my life.”  
  
  
They kiss for the longest time, maybe hours or minutes or something in between, their mouths parting only to share a smile or fond look before coming back together again, lazy and unhurried. And it occurs to Harry, viscerally, just how much he missed Louis these past few weeks, when they were sweeping all of their problems under the rug, so distant and out of touch. It’s an endless relief to have him like this again, pliant and soft in his arms, with everything out in the open now, not avoiding anything anymore, least of all each other.  
  
  
Harry’s hands slip under his t-shirt, fingertips working up the line of Louis’s spine, massaging delicately at the knots he finds there, likely from stress. He feels the muscles unlock under his touch, slowly easing the tension away, and Louis sighs in gratitude, finally breaking the kiss to rest his head in the crook of Harry’s shoulder. He loves Harry’s massages, and Harry loves that he can give this to him.  
  
  
Louis goes limp at the touch, collapsing into Harry, curling himself around him while his hands gently rub at his back, rolling his knuckles into the little curve at the base of his spine. Harry can feel Louis’s hair tickling at his jaw, can feel him breathing softly against his collarbone, murmuring small sounds of satisfaction whenever Harry’s thumbs press at a particular spot.  
  
  
Eventually, Louis turns his head and starts to nose at Harry’s throat, moving up the column of his neck with appreciative little kisses, his mouth supple and wet and suckling. It has goosebumps sprouting up at the tip of Harry’s spine, the beat of his heart growing louder. He can’t help it – not when he has Louis in his lap like this, clinging to Harry like he needs him. Those suckling little kisses have his body responding in no time at all. His cock gives an involuntary twitch in his joggers, but he ignores it, inhaling deeply. He isn’t sure how far they should take things tonight, in case Louis is only comfortable with kissing.  
  
  
The way he’s mouthing at Harry’s neck, however, tells him that Louis _wants_ to be touched, and if he’s aiming to make Harry hard, it’s working. His cock is starting to swell up and bulge at the front of his joggers, and when Louis feels that, he makes a soft sound into his ear, pushing his hips forward until Harry is pressed right up against his arse.  
  
  
Harry freezes, uncertain, his heart racing. “Louis…?”  
  
  
“Please,” Louis whispers, still rooting at his neck, “please – I don’t even care about trying tonight, I just want you to touch me.”  
  
  
Harry swallows hard at that, knowing _exactly_ how Louis feels – his chest is heavy with it. After all that time they spent feeling so distant from each other, his body is practically aching for Louis’s, and being in his arms again feels like coming home.  
  
  
He wonders if they’ve been pining for each other all along, wonders if that’s what has them so desperate for it when he slides his hand up Louis’s back and cards his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands and pulling him away from his neck to bring their lips together again, crashing together like waves in high tide, their breathing shuddered and shaky between them.  
  
  
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” Harry breathes, eagerly delving into Louis’s mouth.  
  
  
With a whimper, Louis locks his legs tight around Harry’s waist and Harry hauls him even closer with his arms looped around his back so that they’re entirely entwined, pushing and pulling at each other, their hands roaming and clutching aimlessly, chasing the other’s lips when one pulls back. Louis’s fingers are tangled in his hair and Harry holds him tight against his cock, panting a bit as he licks into his mouth. They kiss until they’re breathless, clinging to each other like vices, one ending where the other begins, until Louis starts to shake with it.  
  
  
“Please,” he whispers between kisses, desperate. “Please – _please_.”  
  
  
Harry’s nodding his head, his hands already tugging at Louis’s shirt. They break apart long enough for him to pull it up and off and then they’re crashing together again, mouths open and wet, making desperate little sounds. And without breaking contact, Harry tips Louis back onto the blanket, lying between his parted thighs. Their groins line up, Harry big and hard and pressing against Louis’s dick, and Louis moans for it, needily bucking his hips up from the floor.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss, his lashes fluttering, breathing shuddered as Louis grinds on his cock. “What do you want?” he whispers, his voice hoarse and shaky. “Tell me – fuck, I’ll do anything.”  
  
  
“You know what I want,” Louis breathes, gripping at his hair. “Fuck me.”  
  
  
Harry nods, his breathing shallow. “In bed?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Want it right here,” he murmurs, lips brushing at Harry’s mouth. “Fuck me on the floor.”  
  
  
Harry groans weakly, kissing Louis again, quick and dirty. His hands slide down to Louis’s waistband, tugging at his pants and tossing them away so that Louis is naked under him, his cock curving up over his hip. Louis lets out an impatient sound and makes quick work of undressing Harry, too, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging at his joggers, so that when Harry lies down against him again, there’s nothing separating them; just pure skin, warm from the fire.  
  
  
Louis is practically shaking with anticipation while Harry trails kisses along his collarbone, his cock hanging heavy and full from his groin, brushing at the inside of Louis’s thigh. Louis keens for it, rocking his hips up so that the tip catches on his hole, tempting Harry to fuck him there. “Want it,” he whispers, “please.”  
  
  
Harry pulls his mouth away from where he’s been nibbling at Louis’s collarbone, his breath hitching as Louis rubs up against his cock, begging to be fucked. Harry shakes his head with a groan, trying to come back to his senses a bit. _Lube_ – they need lube. When he goes to move away, Louis shamelessly whines in protest, clutching at his bicep.  
  
  
Harry drops a kiss to his forehead, reassuring. “Gotta wait, baby, I’ll be right back.”  
  
  
In record speed, Harry pushes up from the floor and stumbles over to the bedside table, his dick bobbing between his legs. Blindly, he digs around inside the drawer with clumsy hands until he comes up with a half-empty bottle of lube. He spins back around, and what he sees stops him in his tracks…Louis, sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire, the warm glow from the flames flickering across his bare skin, casting shadows and lighting up the dip of his collarbones and the curve of his hip, his cock hard against his soft belly, lying in a little wet spot where he’s leaked. He has both hands on his thighs, fingers twitching like he’s trying not to touch himself, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he waits.  
  
  
Harry swallows hard, dropping to his knees. “Louis…” he murmurs, crawling up between his legs again, “ _baby_.”  
  
  
Louis reaches for him with a whimper, fingers tangling in his hair.  
  
  
Harry can’t stop kissing him, positively claiming his mouth, pecking at the corners before trailing back to the center, his tongue dipping inside, licking at him in a way that’s far from innocent. All the while, his hands skirt down Louis’s sides, rubbing his belly and squeezing at his arse and hips, before sliding back up again to thumb at his nipples.  
  
  
Louis is growing more and more impatient, his hips canting up from the floor, “ _Harry_ ,” he whines.  
  
  
“Shh,” Harry placates, his hand searching for the lube while he kisses Louis some more. “I know, baby, I’ve got you.” He pops the cap, thoroughly coating his fingers before slipping his hand between Louis’s legs.  
  
  
Louis breathes deeply while Harry carefully fingers him open, lips soft below his ear, kissing and murmuring praises, making Louis shiver. He knows Louis is ready when he starts to pant and nod his head, his hips pushing down into the touch. Harry pulls out, gently, drizzling some more lube into his palm before he slicks himself up, stroking easily, fully erect. Louis props himself up on his elbows to watch, so Harry puts on a bit of a show for him, pumping a loose fist over his dick, circling his finger over the head and then squeezing at the base, his hand dipping down to cup his balls before sliding back up again.  
  
  
He loves how worked up Louis gets whenever he watches Harry play with himself. He fidgets the whole time, his cheeks pink, eyes following each movement of Harry’s hand on his cock, biting at his lip, like he’s gagging for it. And then his gaze flicks upwards, meeting Harry’s eyes. He spreads his legs for him in invitation.  
  
  
Harry smirks, holding his gaze steady for a moment before he ducks his head, kissing all over Louis’s thighs, his lips plush and open and dragging wetly against the soft skin. “I want you,” Harry murmurs, sucking at a sensitive little spot up high on the inside of Louis’s thigh.  
  
  
Louis exhales, shakily. “You have me.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, nuzzling. “Wanna be inside you,” he breathes, his fingers slipping down to rub at Louis’s hole. “Want you to feel it when I come.”  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip to hold back a whine, his hands twisting impatiently in the blanket.  
  
  
Harry kisses a slow trail up his belly, to his chest, to his neck, to his lips. “Want this forever,” he whispers, “’m so hard for you.”  
  
  
“…For me?” Louis breathes.  
  
  
Harry nods, pecking his lips. “Always for you.”  
  
  
It’s still snowing outside, tapping at the window and sending a chill through the room. The only warmth can be found in the little safe-haven they’ve created on a blanket in front of the hearth, the air thick and hazy from the flames and the natural heat their bodies have created, laced with sex, and desire.  
  
  
Harry feels like he _needs_ Louis – and quickly.  
  
  
He settles himself between his legs, sat back on his heels, his cock pressed up against his abdomen, pink and straining at the head. He grabs Louis by the hips and pulls him closer, so that his thighs are draped over either side of Harry’s lap. Then he leans forward, planting one hand on the floor beside Louis’s head while the other dips down to take hold of his cock, finally lining himself up at Louis’s rim.  
  
  
Harry takes a deep breath in attempts to calm himself down, hoping like hell that he doesn’t come too soon. He hasn’t actually fucked Louis in days, but it feels like _months_ , and the anticipation coursing through the both of them now – the fucking _pheromones_ they’re giving off – is as real as Louis’s hand clutching at his forearm.  
  
  
He gives himself a firm squeeze around the base and then he’s slowly inching forward, until the tip slips inside with a wet _pop_. His breath catches when he gets that first taste of how _tight_ Louis is, rhythmically clenching and unclenching around his cockhead.  
  
  
Louis inhales sharply, his head tipping back, _“shit_.”  
  
  
Harry pauses to check on him, rubbing at his hip. “This okay?”  
  
  
“Mhm,” Louis murmurs, nodding for more.  
  
  
So Harry’s hands move to hold Louis around the waist, his hips pulling back just a bit before nudging forward again in short pumps, slowly sinking deeper inside, letting Louis adjust to the stretch again.  
  
  
Slowly, Louis opens up for him and it’s exactly where he’s meant to be – with that perfect amount of tightness and heat, gently squeezing down on his dick. He bites his lip, glancing down just to watch himself disappear inside before his gaze flicks back up again, practically hypnotised. He can’t stop staring at Louis, laid out so perfectly in front of him, taking his cock, his legs splayed over his lap and the firelight flicking sinuously over his naked body, bathing his skin in glittering gold.  
  
  
“You’re gorgeous,” Harry whispers down to him, awestruck, shaking his head. “I’d have to be out of my _fucking_ mind to ever leave you.”  
  
  
Louis smiles at that, biting at the corner of his lip. His cheeks are tinted pink from how intently Harry’s watching him, listening closely for every hitch of Louis’s breath, every tiny whimper – each and every indication that he’s slowly coming apart on Harry’s cock. He keeps taking deep breaths, his hand dragging up through his hair, like he can’t even believe how _full_ he feels, and Harry never wants anyone else to have this. He pushes in deeper, hears Louis’s gasp that turns into a soft moan, and he knows no one else ever _will_ have this. He’s going to make sure of it.  
  
  
He’s thrusting slow and gentle at first, inching himself further and further inside, until the glide becomes smooth and easy, Louis’s body letting him in, his thighs falling open for more. Meanwhile, Louis is starting to squirm on the blanket, shuddering each time Harry pushes in, his prick oozing precome onto his tummy. He cants his hips up, letting out soft little mewling sounds, his breath quickening.  
  
  
Harry knows exactly what those sounds mean. He slides both hands up Louis’s thighs, giving his hips a squeeze. “Want it a little harder now, baby?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “Please,” he whispers, fingers gripping at the blanket, bracing himself.  
  
  
So Harry holds Louis still as he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in, _hard_ , pushing in deep. And just like that, Louis’s back arches up from the floor, his face contorted in pleasure, gasping out a bit. “ _Yes_ ,” he whimpers, “more – _oh_ – please, more.”  
  
  
Harry can’t explain how good it feels – to have Louis _begging_ for him like that. He moves with that same, slow rhythm, his hipbones knocking hard against the backs of Louis’s thighs with a fleshy _smack,_ making them jiggle obscenely. He rocks his hips, back and forth, watching closely for the way Louis’s eyes roll back a bit each time he pumps his cock into him, his lips pink and parted and letting out the prettiest sounds, urging Harry to keep going.  
  
  
“Fuck, I love you like this,” Harry breathes, “love having you under me…all those little _sounds_ you make.”  
  
  
Louis blushes, always shy when Harry praises him in bed, and Harry wants to give him everything. He wants to _wreck_ him. He can feel Louis’s thighs quivering where they’re draped over his lap and he pushes them further apart, scoots in even closer, thrusts even _deeper_ , tilting Louis’s limp body at the hips – switching up the angle—  
  
  
“ _Oh!_ ” Louis squeaks, his hips jerking under Harry’s hands. “Yes, _yes_ – just like that – _please_.”  
_  
  
_ Harry tightens his grip, rutting forward with a grunt, careful to fuck into that same spot, desperate to hear Louis moan for him some more. He pulls him down hard onto his cock, his hips bucking expertly, watching Louis squirm and shiver and shake, crying out with his eyes clenched shut, his hands reaching up to grip at Harry’s biceps, clutching uselessly, as Harry pounds away at his prostate.  
  
  
Harry’s panting now, his pupils blown, “...right there?”  
  
  
“Mmnn,” Louis groans, nodding his head.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry murmurs. “That feel good? Tell me.”  
  
  
“ _So_ good,” Louis nods, breathless, biting his lip and gasping when Harry pumps his cock into him again, knocking right into his spot. “ _Oh_ , _oh, oh_ – fuck…Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry’s hips stutter forward automatically at that, a shiver wracking down his spine, and he smiles, feeling a little smug. That’s the first time Louis has called him _Daddy_ , tonight. It strokes at his dominant nature, has him reaching out to take Louis’s hands, pinning his wrists to the floor above his head.  
  
  
He tips his chin, nosing at Louis’s throat, slowing the movement of his hips back down to a sluggish pace, his cock dragging in and out, tempting and teasing, but definitely not enough. He hears Louis make a frustrated sound at the loss, whining for more, his hands twitching restlessly where Harry has him pinned. Harry just keeps kissing up his neck, sucking gently, taking his time.  
  
  
Louis shudders under him, “felt so good,” he whines, low in his throat.  
  
  
Harry licks at a bead of sweat dripping down his neck, “…want me to keep going? Fuck you some more?”  
  
  
“Please,” Louis nods,” …I’m so _close_.”  
  
  
With only his wrists restrained, Louis could easily move his hips, get back to the pace he wants, fuck himself on Harry’s cock, but he doesn’t, following the silent command to be still. He whimpers sadly, but he doesn’t move, submitting easily.  
  
  
Harry presses a kiss below his ear. “So good for me,” he murmurs, keeping Louis’s wrists pinned as he speeds back up again, fucking him good and hard, and Louis practically sobs in relief.  
  
  
Harry groans, his hips knocking fast into Louis’s, pumping his cock in and out. He lifts his head from Louis’s neck, crashing their lips together, a messy slide of tongues. Louis can barely kiss back, he’s so overwhelmed, just keeps whimpering into Harry’s mouth, but Harry doesn’t mind at all because it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard – Louis desperate and falling apart on his cock like this. Usually Louis is loud when Harry fucks him, but tonight he’s all quiet mewls and high, breathy gasps that turn into hushed moans, like he’s feeling _so_ much, all he can do is whimper.  
  
  
Harry rolls his hips down and they break the kiss on a gasp, their movements perfectly in synch, grinding together. It feels so good, they’re both trembling with it, panting shallowly, their faces held close, breathing the same air. The fire is giving off so much _heat_ , their skin is damp with sweat, bodies slickened and slippery. And Harry has never felt this close to Louis before, fucking him hard, but making love to him, too. It feels much more _raw_ than anything they’ve ever done in the past – a spanking, or even subspace – just being completely _consumed_ by each other like this, with so much visceral love and trust and need between them, somehow, is more intense than anything. And he knows, for as long as he lives, he’ll never forget this night.  
  
  
Harry lets go of his wrists then, wrapping Louis up in his arms, one hand going around to cradle the back of his head, keeping their faces close to share a few messy, needy kisses. Louis hooks his thighs up around Harry’s waist so that they’re as close as possible, clinging to each other. “Gonna make me come,” Louis whimpers, shakily, his hands sliding through the sweat on Harry’s back, nails digging into the skin.  
  
  
Harry moans, his eyes rolling back a bit each time Louis clenches down on him, so good and so tight. The thick tip of his cock keeps nudging right up against Louis’s spot and Louis’s whole body shudders with it, clinging to him. “ _Harry_.”  
  
  
“Baby,” Harry murmurs, dropping a kiss to his neck. With an arm around Louis’s back, he hikes his arse up even higher, and the sudden change in angle has Louis crying out, “Oh my _god_ ,” and then his hips are stuttering, gone for it, pushing himself down onto Harry’s cock for more. “ _Fuck me, fuck me_ ,” he gasps, babbling, clawing at Harry’s back, and Harry bucks his hips hard and fast, skin slapping together, staring intently at Louis’s face, watching as his mouth falls open on a silent scream, his eyes wide with shock and bliss.  
  
  
“Oh – _oh_ – coming – m’coming,” he whimpers, and Harry feels Louis’s cock twitching hard between them, his come spurting out in ropes and splattering up onto his chest.  
  
  
When Louis comes, he clenches down even tighter on Harry’s cock, and that – paired with watching Louis have an orgasm that intense, has Harry’s hips bucking frantically, the heat coiling low in his belly and his balls drawing up tight. “ _I love you_ ,” Harry gasps out then, like his life depends on it, like he never wants Louis to forget, “god, I just love you _so much_.” He thrusts in deep, keeping himself there with a drawn-out moan, shivering violently as he finally comes, his cock jerking and pulsing, spilling wetly inside of Louis.  
  
  
  
It takes some time for them to recover, lying boneless on the blanket, their muscles giving out, trying to catch their breath. They’re caught up in the afterglow, and Harry lies half-on top of Louis, feeling the sweat cool against their skin, his nose tucked into the hollow at the base of his throat. He presses an occasional kiss there, whenever Louis makes an indulgent sound of satisfaction, or even disbelief. Harry can relate; he can’t believe they just fucked like that – how good it was.  
  
  
Eventually, Harry lifts his head with a groan, rolling his stiff shoulders back. “We gotta get up, baby. My back is gonna be killing me, tomorrow.”  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow. “Yours? I’m the one who just got fucked into the carpet.”  
  
  
“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, touching his hip, “I put a blanket down for you.”  
  
  
Louis smiles with his eyes closed and lifts his hand, stroking at Harry’s knotted hair, dampened with sweat. “Will you carry me?”  
  
  
Harry fondly shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “Of course, baby.” He pushes up from the floor, his bones cracking and his legs still weak from exertion. He can’t help but take note of how thoroughly debauched Louis looks, before triumphantly scooping him up into his arms.  
  
  
He carries him into the shower, rinsing away the layer of dried sweat and come, letting Louis lean against him, yawning like a sleepy kitten, while Harry washes his hair.  
  
  
They crawl into bed naked, not even bothering with pyjamas, too sated and spent. It’s well past four in the morning, by now. Their eyes are heavy, falling closed as soon as their heads touch the pillows, Harry holding Louis, while their breathing evens out.  
  
  
And for the first time in so many recent nights, Louis smiles in his sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It happens one day in mid-February.  
  
  
  
  
They’re cuddled up on the couch, enjoying Harry’s day off from work, while the cooking channel plays on the big screen in the den, as per Harry’s request. Louis doesn’t mind, because they’re not really watching anyway, just snogging lazily.  
  
  
They pull apart when the front door opens, and Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest. They hear footsteps in the foyer, and then Liam waltzes into the den, holding a white package that looks like it’s from a deli. “Picked up some fish filets for dinner!” he announces, before heading into the kitchen.  
  
  
Almost immediately, the smell assaults Louis’s nose and he sits up, feeling his stomach churn.  
  
  
Harry looks at him, his brow furrowed. “Lou?”  
  
  
Louis’s mouth waters but it’s difficult to swallow, his stomach giving another sick, queasy lurch, before rising up into his throat. _Uh-oh_. He cups a hand over his mouth and then he’s racing out of the den, scrambling down the hallway into the bathroom.  
  
  
With a frown, Harry pushes up from the couch and follows after him, wincing when he hears a telltale retching sound, followed by a splash in the toilet. He waits outside until the sounds have stopped, giving Louis privacy, and then he raises his knuckles to the door. “Baby,” he murmurs, “can I come in?”  
  
  
The toilet flushes, and he hears Louis croak out a shaky “yes.”  
  
  
When he opens the door, Louis is at the sink, washing his hands and rinsing out his mouth, looking rather pale – displaying all of the signs of someone who’s just vomited.  
  
  
Harry frowns, touching a hand to the small of his back. “You okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his eyes watery and red, “m’fine, just – that smell got to me, I guess.”  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound, leaning against the counter. “But…that’s the second time this week.”  
  
  
Louis shrugs, drying his hands on a towel.  
  
  
Harry pauses then, giving him a long, searching look. And then he stills, his eyes widening. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “I – Louis, do you think it could be, like…morning sickness?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, staring down at the sink. He shrugs his shoulders, meekly. “I don’t know…maybe,” he whispers, uncertain.  
  
  
Harry frowns, his brows pulling together. “Then – you still have some tests left, right? Why don’t you try taking one?” he offers, gently, knowing that Louis hasn’t taken a single pregnancy test since that night on Christmas Eve.  
  
  
“I don’t know,” Louis whispers again, his voice very quiet. He hangs his head, sighing heavily, “…I just don’t want to see another negative sign.”  
  
  
Harry smiles sadly, turning Louis around and pulling him into a hug. He rests his cheek on the top of his head, rubbing soft circles against his back. “Would you rather make a doctor’s appointment?” he murmurs. “That way there won’t be any more negative signs…We can just get you an ultrasound, baby. And then we’ll know for sure.”  
  
  
Louis’s arms tighten around him at that.  
  
  
Harry kisses his hair. “It’s up to you, love. Anything you want.”  
  
  
Louis exhales against him, tilting his chin to look up at Harry, smiling weakly. And then he nods his head.  
  
  
Harry smiles down at him, the dimple popping out in his cheek. “Yeah? You want to?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Louis nods again, “want to.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... :)
> 
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> [louisweaterpaws.tumblr](http://louisweaterpaws.tumblr.com)


	15. Serendipity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii sorry for the long delay, these past few months were really hard for me but i'm feeling better!!
> 
>  
> 
> xoxo

  
  
It’s always cold in waiting rooms.  
  
  
Louis sits in a cushioned chair, a clipboard held tight in his hands, filling out some required paperwork that the woman at the front desk had given him. He chews at his lip, reading over the long list of questions… _do you smoke?...do you have any drug allergies...any chronic conditions?  
  
  
_ The words all seem to blend together, after a while.  
  
  
Beside him is Harry, who has been trying and failing to distract himself with his iPhone, swiping aimlessly at the screen. He eventually gives up, clicking the lock button until the screen goes black before tucking it back into his pocket. And then Louis feels his lips brush against his hair, a small gesture of comfort, and reassurance.  
  
  
At the moment, that’s exactly what Louis needs.  
  
  
It’s so quiet in the clinic that every tiny scratch of his pen against paper is magnified. He wishes he could just skip this part, head straight to the exam room and have someone _tell_ him already, because not knowing is driving him insane.  
  
  
When he finally reaches the end of the questionnaire, he double-checks his work and then signs his name at the bottom of the last page in a messy scrawl, before carrying it to the front desk.  
  
  
He looks a little anxious on his way back so Harry gives him a smile, touching Louis’s thigh when he sits back down. Louis tucks his hands inside the sleeves of his jumper, pinching the cloth between his thumb and forefinger, while the toe of his shoe compulsively taps against the tile floor.  
  
  
It feels like several days pass before the door at the far end of the room finally opens and a nurse wearing pink scrubs appears. “Louis?” she asks, gently, glancing around the sitting area.   
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath and then he’s standing, with Harry at his side. And together, they follow the nurse through the door.  
  
  
She carries out a few preliminary measures first, taking Louis’s height and weight before sending him to a small bathroom in the back with a plastic cup to wee in. Afterwards, the nurse guides them to one of the examination rooms, asking Louis to remove his jumper. “The doctor will be with you shortly,” she says, pulling the door closed.  
  
  
Louis exhales heavily, fidgeting. He tugs his jumper up and over his head, followed by the t-shirt he wore underneath, until his chest is bare. He sits the clothes down on a chair in the corner and then climbs up onto the padded stretcher, sitting sideways with his legs dangling over the edge. He folds his hands in his lap, looking around the room while he waits for the doctor to come in.  
  
  
Everything is clean and white and sterilized, the overhead lights a bright fluorescent. On the walls are various health posters, detailing the reproductive systems and how to do a self-check for breast cancer. In the opposite corner is a linoleum worktop, equipped with a sink and a few glass jars filled with plasters and cotton swabs.  
  
  
If possible, the air in the exam room is even colder than it had been back in the waiting room. Goosebumps sprout up across Louis’s chest and arms, his nipples hardening into stiffened nubs. He lets out a shiver and Harry huddles close to him, standing in the little V between his thighs. Louis burrows himself in, slipping his cold hands up under Harry’s jumper while Harry wraps his arms around him, rubbing his palms up and down Louis’s arms and back to warm him up.  
  
  
“Why do they keep it so bloody freezing in here?” Louis mutters with a frown.   
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “Think it’s to ward off germs. Airborne pathogens tend to spread in warm air.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “only you would know that.” He rests his cheek against Harry’s chest, his eyes falling closed.  
  
  
Harry noses at the hair at the top of his head, listening to the faint sounds from beyond the examination room door: the rhythmic beeping of a monitor, a distant cough, the muffled voice of a nurse. Meanwhile, Louis is quiet against his chest.  
  
  
Harry rubs at his back, “…are you nervous?” he murmurs, quietly.  
  
  
Louis sighs, his shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug. “A bit, yeah.”  
  
  
Harry nods, dropping a kiss to his hair. “Me, too,” he whispers. “But no matter what happens, I love you and we’re going to be okay. You know that, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods, hiding a smile against Harry’s chest, “…I know.”  
  
  
Harry had been saying things like that a lot lately, ever since that night on Christmas Eve, when he had found Louis crying in the nursery. From that point on, they agreed to stop focusing so much on ‘trying’ and just let things happen. Louis stopped his obsessive tidying, although he still liked to read an occasional passage from the baby books before bed some nights. They started talking things out instead of sweeping it all under the rug, or using sex to avoid communicating. And all the while, Harry has made sure to remind Louis of his worth—that he’s so much more than his ability to reproduce.  
  
  
But most of all, he’s reminded him that he’s loved.  
  
  
Christmas Eve had exposed all of their imperfections, held them up to the light where there was no where left to hide, and brought everything – all of the doubts and inadequacies and pain – right up to the surface, so that it could be inspected under a magnifying glass. It could have easily been a breaking point, damaged what they had beyond repair. And yet, incredibly, ever since that night they’ve felt so much closer to each other.  
  
  
Louis never knew that it could be like this, that someone could bare witness to all of his faults and flaws and still look at him the way Harry does, still _love_ him the way Harry does. He thinks he knows what it means now, to love and be loved unconditionally. Because they’ve seen all that they have to offer each other, the good and the bad, and they’re still here, still holding on, for no other reason than because they _want_ to.  
  
  
They’re still in love, so ridiculously, and Louis thinks he can feel his own heart beating inside of Harry’s chest.  
  
  
He thinks Harry can feel it, too.  
  
  
  
There’s a knock at the door then and they quickly pull apart, Harry stepping back to sit in the available waiting chair. A woman steps inside, smiling kindly with her hair slicked back into a tight bun, streaked with grey. “Louis,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Dr. Blake.”  
  
  
“Nice to meet you,” Louis says with a nod, watching as she shakes Harry’s hand as well.  
  
  
She moves over to the sink then, thoroughly washing her hands in water so hot, it’s steaming. She dries off with a few paper towels and then opens up a manila folder, her eyes skimming the documents inside. “Okay, let’s see…” she says, before looking back up at Louis with a smile, “you’re here for an ultrasound?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly and nods. “Erm, yes. I – well, I’ve been experiencing some sensitivity to certain smells lately? And nausea. And,” he glances to Harry, “we’ve – erm, been trying for a baby so…” he shrugs, “just wondering if I could be pregnant.”  
  
  
Dr. Blake nods. “Have you taken a home test?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “Uhm, no. Not lately.”  
  
  
The doctor nods again. “That’s fine,” she says, motioning to the ultrasound machine, “this is what truly determines it, anyway. Lie back for me, please.”  
  
  
Louis does, lying back against the crinkly paper that’s stretched tight over the seat cushion, his belly suddenly churning. He glances to the left to look at Harry and finds him already staring back, the nerves reflected there in his green eyes. Louis reaches out, and in an instant, Harry is on his feet at his side, holding his small hand in between two of his own wide palms. He brings it up to his lips, pressing kisses to Louis’s knuckles, before giving him another reassuring smile.  
  
  
On his other side, the doctor sets up a high-tech looking computer, the monitor glowing blue once it’s turned on. It changes to black, making several beeping noises as Dr. Blake taps away at the keyboard. Then she pulls out a handheld wand.  
  
  
Louis watches as she drizzles a bit of clear gel onto his stomach. It’s cold, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps taking deep breaths in attempts to calm his nerves. His anxiety is ramping back up again. Harry can easily sense that, giving his hand another squeeze.  
  
  
The doctor holds the wand flush against Louis’s stomach, swirling it through the gel with one hand, while still typing at the keyboard with the other. “Alright, let’s see,” she says, shifting the wand in small, practiced movements as the screen changes once again. This time, it shows a projection of the inside of Louis’s abdomen.  
  
  
It doesn’t look like much; just black and grey and fuzzy, wobbling a bit with each shift of the wand, similar to the way water moves. Louis doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath, his hand clenched tightly around Harry’s and his eyes glued to the screen, not even sure what he’s supposed to be looking for.  
  
  
That is, until the wand shifts again and he sees a tiny flicker.  
  
  
“See that?” Dr. Blake says, pointing, “…that’s a heartbeat.”  
  
  
It keeps flickering on the screen, while Louis’s own heart is skipping beats.  
  
  
“Yep,” Dr. Blake says, nodding easily. “You’re pregnant. Just about eight weeks, I’d say.”  
  
  
It doesn’t process, at first. Louis just keeps staring at the screen, frozen in place with his mouth open and his breath caught in his throat, his gaze trained on that little, flickering dot. And then, without warning, his eyes are filling up with tears, and when he looks up at Harry, he finds that his eyes are wet, too. And then they’re hugging, and Louis isn’t even sure who reached out first. All he knows is that he’s in Harry’s arms, and he’s fucking speechless, and he’s pregnant.  
  
  
Everything passes in a blur after that. Dr. Blake carries out a few more tests, taking Louis’s blood and asking him questions and advising him not to drink or smoke and Louis nods along, not saying much. He doesn’t feel entirely present, as if he’s going through the motions of an elaborate dream. It doesn’t even feel real, hasn’t totally sank in just yet – he’s _pregnant_.  
  
  
  
  
On the way home, they can’t stop smiling. They just keep giving each other fond, excited looks, while Harry drives and Louis holds the printed-out ultrasound in his lap. He can’t stop staring at it, touching gently with his fingertip, tracing the outline of that adorably tiny blob.  
  
  
They let themselves in through the garage, rushing upstairs without a word. They now have a little secret between them that’s too early to share with the rest of the world just yet, even though Louis is tempted to shout it from several rooftops.  
  
  
When they get to their bedroom, Harry kicks the door closed and scoops Louis up, smiling when he lets out a little shriek of surprise that turns into a full, genuine laugh. He carries him straight to bed and tips him back against the pillows, crawling up between his legs to bring their lips together.  
  
  
“You’re _pregnant_ ,” Harry murmurs, for what must be the hundredth time that day.  
  
  
Louis smiles into the kiss, giggling happily.  
  
  
“I love you _so much_ ,” Harry whispers, awestruck, “…we’re going to have a _baby_. I can’t even believe it.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, his eyes crinkling. He’s been smiling so much his cheeks are starting to ache with it, but he can’t stop. Especially not when Harry slides down his torso to investigate, propping himself up on his elbows so that his head is level with Louis’s belly.  
  
  
Looking down, Louis watches as Harry pushes his t-shirt up, slowly, like he’s revealing a long-awaited surprise. He fans his fingers out over the bare skin, his eyes wide and open and hopelessly curious, as if he’s expecting to watch the bump grow any second now. Louis’s stomach looks the same as always, but Harry seems happy just to pet at it, peppering kisses all over.  
  
  
“Come to think of it,” he murmurs, prodding gently with his thumbs, “your tummy has felt a bit firm lately. Usually it’s soft and pudgy.”  
  
  
Louis makes an indignant sound at that, giving Harry’s curls a sharp tug.  
  
  
“ _Oww_ ,” Harry crows, laughing. “I meant that in a _good_ way, baby. You know how much I love your soft belly,” he kisses it again for emphasis. “Makes for the perfect pillow.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “if you say so.”  
  
  
“I know so,” Harry replies, resting his cheek against Louis’s tummy with a sigh.  
  
  
Louis ignores him, reaching towards the bedside table where a few baby books are stacked. He chooses one off the top, flipping to a section called “Your Pregnancy: Week Eight.” And then he starts to read. Harry stays glued to his stomach the whole time, groaning a bit as Louis cards his fingers through his hair.  
  
  
“This says the baby is about the size of a medium raspberry,” Louis murmurs down to him.  
  
  
Harry grins. “A _raspberry_ ,” he marvels, nosing below Louis’s bellybutton. “That’s so cute.”  
  
  
“…This week is vital for brain development,” Louis continues, reading aloud, “the spinal cord is developing, and the taste buds are starting to form.”  
  
  
Harry listens, nodding along, dotting Louis’s stomach with more kisses. “And what about you? What should we expect?”  
  
  
Louis wrinkles his nose. “All kinds of fun stuff,” he says, turning to the next page before rattling off the list he finds there. “Heartburn, backache, fatigue, bloating, nausea…food cravings, emotional changes...”  
  
  
“Uh-oh,” Harry muses, the corner of his lip quirking up. “Does that mean you’re going to start hating me sometimes? I _am_ the one who did this to you, after all.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, still stroking at Harry’s curls with one hand. “You certainly are,” he murmurs from behind the book. “Congratulations, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry freezes where he’s been nuzzling at Louis’s tummy, and when he lifts his head, his eyes have darkened a shade. Louis giggles and tosses the book aside, as Harry slowly slithers back up his torso.  
  
  
He hovers over him, hair cascading down over his shoulders and a silver chain dangling from his neck, swinging back and forth through the opening of his button-up top. He keeps his gaze held on Louis’s face while his hand comes up to cradle his jaw, tilting it back a bit, “…did you hear what the doctor said?” Harry whispers, leaning down to brush their mouths together. “About the date of conception being around Christmas Eve?”  
  
  
Louis nods submissively, his legs going up around Harry’s waist.  
  
  
Harry keeps kissing him, featherlight. “Do you know what that means?” he murmurs, low and smooth as silk. “I got you pregnant that night. Right there,“ he cocks his head to the side. “In front of the fire. I _fucked_ you on the floor, just like you asked me to, and I got you pregnant.”  
  
  
Louis suppresses a shiver, biting his lip. “You did a good job,” he whispers, pressing a little kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Gave me my Christmas and birthday wish all in one.”  
  
  
“Life’s funny like that, innit? It’s like the second we stopped trying, it finally happened.”  
  
  
Louis smiles and nods, nudging at his cheek to get Harry to kiss him again.  
  
  
Harry does, responding eagerly, “’m so happy,” he murmurs against his lips, “I’m happy for you, and for _us_.”  
  
  
Louis hums back, tugging Harry closer. And then they’re kissing, slow and unhurried, like they have all the time in the world to revel and rejoice in this moment, feeling so much shared elation between them, it could stretch on for days without letting up.  
  
  
It’s quiet, empty on this side of the house, just the two of them. Glimmers of grey daylight creep in through the window, and beyond it, an entire universe exists. But right now, it feels like they’re the only people in the world, with the life they’ve created held between them, so precious and new.  
  
  
From above, the ceiling fan turns in slow circles, and the only sounds are the slight ruffling of bed sheets, the soft hitches of breath that pass between their lips. Harry’s arms are strong where they’re propped against the mattress, bracketing Louis in, keeping him pinned with his hips. Louis is pliant under him, his face cradled in Harry’s palms, letting him guide each and every kiss, tilting his head back to deepen it, while his thumbs brush at his cheeks. And then, as easy as breathing, Harry coaxes his lips apart, delving his tongue inside, and Louis makes a soft sound, his legs tightening where they’re wrapped around Harry’s back.  
  
  
Harry changes trajectory then, burrowing against Louis’s neck to nip at the delicate bit of skin just below his ear, his mouth hot. Louis tips his head back to give him better access, letting himself feel. Blindly, he skims his hands down Harry’s sides and pushes up under his shirt, lightly scratching his nails at the small of his back, and Harry shivers against him.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at that. He moves his hands in slow, tempting circles, slipping lower, trailing his fingertips along the waistband of Harry’s jeans, where the soft cotton of his briefs are peeking out. And then he slides a hand around to the front. Sure enough, there’s a stiff bulge waiting for him there, pushing tight up against the material by his zipper. Louis cups a hand over it, rubbing gently with his palm.  
  
  
Harry’s whole body jerks at the touch, and then he tilts his hips up, his eyes falling closed, exhaling shakily as Louis strokes him. Louis turns his head, pecking another kiss to Harry’s cheek, a flash of heat coming over his skin. He listens closely to the little groaning sounds Harry makes while he rubs his cock, feeling it twitch where it’s trapped inside his jeans.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles against his neck, needily. “Baby...”  
  
  
“Hm?” Louis hums, feigning innocence.  
  
  
Harry nips at his throat, grinding his hips a bit, so that his dick is dragging against Louis’s palm. “Let me fuck you,” he whispers, slipping his hands up Louis’s shirt. “Please, baby?” He holds him around the hips, tight and possessive. “God, I swear I could go for _hours_ right now.”  
  
  
Louis puts on a tiny pout, circling his fingertips just to make Harry’s cock twitch for him some more. “Wonder if you’ll still want me this much six months from now when I’m all moody and bloated.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head with a groan, pushing eagerly into Louis’s hand. “Always want you,” he tells him. “Besides, you’ll only be moody and bloated because you’ve got my baby in you. If you don’t think that turns me on, I’ve got some work to do.”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re such a caveman.”  
  
  
Harry laughs, still smothering his neck with kisses. He sucks at the sensitive little spot behind his ear, smirking when Louis shudders against him, “…is that a ‘no’ then?”  
  
  
Louis moves his hand away, resting it against his belly. “Of course not,” he says, “did I forget to mention one of the symptoms?”  
  
  
Harry looks down at him, his brow quirked in question.  
  
  
Louis smiles coyly, “…an increase in sex drive.”  
  
  
Harry gapes at him, his eyes glossing over in slight wonderment, like he’s imaging several possibilities at once. He swallows hard, shaking his head, “oh, I’ve _definitely_ got some work to do.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometime later, Harry sits with his back leaned against the pillows that are piled up along the headboard of the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, crooked up a bit at the knees. He has Louis held in his lap, watching him bounce on his cock.  
  
  
“— _mmnn_ ,” Louis moans, biting at his lip to hold in the sound.  
  
  
Harry smiles, a little breathless from how tight Louis is. “Good?”  
  
  
Louis can only nod, panting a bit as he bobs up and down. They’ve already been through a few rounds – pausing in between just to kiss and touch and recover, getting tangled up in the sheets and each other, until Harry was hard enough to slip back inside of Louis for more.  
  
  
They’ve created the most perfect image, Louis small and tanned with Harry big and tattooed underneath him, their eyes locked only on each other. Louis is naked, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat as he sits up on his knees, straddling Harry’s lap while he fucks himself on his cock. His tummy is streaked with dried come, and he’s getting ridiculously close once _again_ thanks to the angle he’s found.  
  
  
Harry keeps relatively still, allowing Louis to set the pace however it feels best for him, letting him get more and more worked up. Louis is still a little uncoordinated when it comes to riding, but Harry doesn’t mind at all. In fact, he loves it—loves watching him shift and explore and try out different angles, hearing the little gasps of surprise he makes when he finds a good one, eagerly pushing down into that spot for more. His whole body trembles with it, precome dribbling from his tip, “oh – _oh_.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, squeezing affectionately at his hips. “Is that your spot, baby?”  
  
  
Louis just whines and nods, grinding down harder.  
  
  
“Good boy,” Harry praises, “fuck yourself on me, right there.”  
  
  
Harry could sit back and watch him all day, let Louis use him until he comes on himself again and again.  
  
  
Louis blushes, still so shy about being watched. “Daddy,” he whimpers, “does it feel good?”  
  
  
Harry nods, rubbing at his thighs in encouragement. “ _So_ good, baby. You’re perfect.”  
  
  
Louis lights up at the praise, adorably flustered, so Harry keeps going, lifting a hand to brush his fingers through his fringe, “…I can still remember when I taught you how to do this—how to ride me. You were so nervous, weren’t you, baby?”  
  
  
Louis nods, biting his lip.  
  
  
“Now look at you,” Harry murmurs, gently. “Doing so good. Riding my cock, just how I like it.”  
  
  
Louis’s ears are trained on every word, and he reflexively picks up the pace, rising up with a sharp swivel of his hips.  
  
  
Harry hisses, his head tipping back, letting Louis wiggle around on the tip of his cock. “Christ, that feels good.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, and then he’s dropping down hard and fast so that his arse jiggles and slaps against Harry’s lap, wanting to please him.  
  
  
Harry lets out a low groan, his eyes glazing over a bit. “Yeah, yeah – _fuck_. Take my cock, baby – just like that.”  
  
  
Louis shivers and bucks his hips, flushed and panting as he bounces. He plants his hands flat on Harry’s stomach for leverage, feeling the muscles of his abdomen twitching under his palms as he pitches himself forward again, taking Harry deeper. And it’s so good – Harry is so fucking _thick_ – standing at full-mast between his legs, letting Louis sink down on him until he’s tingling with it, stuffed full of his cock.  
  
  
With a moan, Louis leans forward and grinds his hips, and that slight change in position has him crying out, rocking in tight little circles against his spot. “ _Shit_ ,” he whispers, his hand flying down to wrap around his dick, pumping fast. He’s so _close_.  
  
  
Almost immediately, Harry pulls his hand away, pinning it to the bed. “No touching, baby, that’s for Daddy.”  
  
  
Louis makes a sad sound. His cock is starting to swell up and ache from the lack of touch, the tip throbbing dully. He’s getting tired, worn out from riding Harry, his pace slowing down, but he still messily ruts his hips, desperate to reach the orgasm that’s building at the base of his spine. “Wanna come,” Louis whimpers, “please?”  
  
  
Harry just shrugs. “Come, then.”  
  
  
Louis holds back a whine, miserably shaking his head. “Can’t – need you.”  
  
  
Harry grins, quirking his brow, “oh, you _need_ me?”  
  
  
Louis nods, looking down at him pleadingly.  
  
  
Harry rolls his shoulders back, as casual as ever, as if Louis isn’t bobbing on his dick and asking to come. It makes the dull throb Louis feels even worse, but Harry just settles deeper into the pillows, looking up at him expectantly. “What do you need me to do to you, baby? Tell me.”  
  
  
Louis shivers, getting more and more flustered from the way Harry’s talking to him, all soft and gentle, but yet there’s still so much dominance there in his voice. Harry smooths both hands up Louis’s thighs to wrap around his hips, giving them a little squeeze, _teasingly_ – like he always does when he’s about to take control and fuck Louis. And Louis mewls for it, of course, but Harry stays perfectly still, not giving in. “Gotta tell me,” he murmurs, his thumbs rubbing at Louis’s hipbones. “Just tell me what you want, baby, and you’ll get it.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, flushing harder because he knows exactly what Harry wants…He wants him to _beg_ for it…and Louis is just far gone enough to do just that. He exhales shakily, touching Harry’s stomach, at the line of hair that trails down from his navel to his cock. “Want you to fuck me,” Louis whispers, his face hot. “Please, Daddy? …I need it,” he arches his back with a breathy moan. “Fuck me hard, Daddy – wanna come for you.”  
  
  
Harry stares up at him, his pupils blown and his mouth dropping open a bit. He shakes his head, his hands clenching where they’re locked around Louis’s waist. “You’re unreal,” he marvels, his eyes on Louis’s mouth. “Could make me do anything when you beg for it like that.”  
  
  
In one fluid motion, Harry’s hips rock up from the bed, his cock pushing hard into Louis, and Louis gasps out in shock, his mouth falling open and his eyes wide, “oh, oh _– yes –_ oh my god.” And then he’s whimpering, shaking his head and clutching at Harry’s chest because it’s _so much_.  
  
  
Harry watches him closely, his eyes dark. “Is that better?”  
  
  
Louis nods with a low moan, his face scrunched up in pure pleasure, “ _so_ much better.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry smiles, a little smug, pumping his hips. “Yeah, you’re good at riding me, baby, but I think you like it best when I fuck you.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t even bother to deny it. It’s obvious in the sounds he’s making; the pretty little moans, and the precome leaking from his slit, getting him wet. It’s obvious in the way he’s gone pliant for Harry, effortlessly handing over all control, so happy to be claimed and used and taken. Harry touches Louis however he pleases, petting at his hips before sliding his hands around to cup his arse, groping and kneading at the flesh, feeling it jiggle under his palms. His gives him a little slap and Louis’s breath hitches, needily pushing back into the touch.  
  
  
Harry sits back and watches him, endlessly overwhelmed by how good Louis is for him, how easily he submits and responds, taking whatever it is Harry has to offer and wanting it just as badly, craving his approval. He spanks his bottom again, smiling when Louis mewls for it, sat up so perfectly on Harry’s bare cock.  
  
  
“Baby,” Harry murmurs, still kneading at Louis’s arse, touching all over, possessive. “My baby, yeah? All mine?”  
  
  
Louis nods, breathless. “Yours, Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry sighs, “love hearing you say that.” And then he’s spreading Louis apart with both hands, holding him open as he thrusts up from the bed and pumps his cock inside, nailing his sweet spot.  
  
  
Louis practically screams, his arms giving out, collapsing weakly against Harry’s chest while he pounds away at his tiny pink hole. He feels so incredibly _used_ , but he parts his thighs for more, getting properly fucked, with Harry’s balls drawing up tight and slapping wetly against his arse.  
  
  
Harry slides his hands around his waist, nudging at him. “Sit up, baby, wanna see you.”  
  
  
Louis just shakes his head, overwhelmed, his body limp. “Can’t,” he breathes.  
  
  
Harry tips his chin, nosing at his hair. “Please, baby? You’re getting so _close_ , I can feel it. I wanna see you come.” He rolls his hips up again, smiling at the little sound Louis makes. “Could you sit up for me? Let Daddy see you?”  
  
  
With a groan, Louis slowly pushes himself back up on shaky arms so Harry can see his face – see his cheeks all hot with a blush, his hair tousled and his eyes glossed over a bit from the relentless pressure against his spot.  
  
  
“Good boy,” Harry praises, arching up to kiss his nose. He brings his knees in closer and gently tips Louis backward, letting him rest against his thighs. And Louis settles back against him with a tiny sigh of relief, shuddering at the sudden change in angle.  
  
  
Harry smiles, petting at his hips. “There you go, baby. Just lean against me, I’ll take care of the rest.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, bracing himself as Harry starts to move again, thrusting up from the bed, making Louis squirm and arch his back, “ _Daddy.”_  
  
  
The new position has Louis clenching down hard on Harry’s cock and Harry moans for it, bucking his hips up, careful to fuck into that same spot. He grits his teeth, tossing his head back, “God damnit, baby, how are you still this tight?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at that, blushing at the look on Harry’s face, watching him pant and rut as he holds Louis in his lap, jostling him around on his cock. His hands grip at Louis’s hips, tilting them up a bit, and Louis’s whole body gives a jolt, his mouth dropping open on a whine. It’s so good - the thick head of Harry’s cock keeps drilling _right_ into his prostate and Louis is fucking gone for it, shaking and crying out, “ _uh – uh – uh_ – _yes_ ,” he gasps, babbling, “fuck me, Daddy – please.”  
  
  
Harry rocks up the bed with a grunt. “Yeah? You like that?”  
  
  
Louis mewls, his eyes clenched shut, getting even closer just from hearing Harry’s voice. Harry keeps going, his gaze locked on Louis’s face. “Like being all mine? Letting me fuck you bare like this?”  
  
  
Louis whimpers and nods, overwhelmed. “Like it – _oh_ – like it, Daddy.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry pants, his hips knocking hard into Louis. “You like taking my raw cock? Knowing I’m gonna come inside you?”  
  
  
Louis trembles, his thighs quivering where they’re straddling Harry’s lap. “ _Daddyyy_ ,” he whines, barely even conscious of himself anymore. He just feels so _full_ – can hardly believe how good it feels to have Harry inside him like this, all big and stiff and fattened up, rubbing at him just right, until he’s needy and tingling and clenching down tight on his cock, making Harry shudder and groan, desperate for it, his back arching up from the bed. “Louis – _baby_ …fuck.”  
  
  
Louis’s cock twitches where it’s pressed against his tummy, pink and swollen at the head. “Need to come,” he whimpers, his hands twisted in the sheets to keep himself from touching. “Daddy, _please_. Please let me come.”  
  
  
Harry moves one of his hands from Louis’s hip, sliding it to where his prick is poking up from between his legs. He smears his fingers through the wetness there at the tip, making Louis gasp and flinch, sensitive. “Is this what you need, baby?” Harry murmurs, touching him gently. “Need me to rub your cock?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his breath hitching when Harry wraps a hand around him and starts to pump. He swirls his thumb in tiny circles over his slit, coaxing him, and Louis tightens up like a spring that’s about to unravel. “ _Oh!_ Oh, oh – oh f-fuck.” And then Harry’s hips are bucking up from the mattress again, pumping into him slow and steady and hard until Louis is sobbing with it, his cock spurting helplessly between them, dripping all over Harry’s fingers.  
  
  
Louis _collapses_ – falls back against Harry’s thighs, shivering and breathless as he comes, and all Harry can do is watch, because it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.  
  
  
“Louis…” he breathes, almost speechless. “God, come here, baby.”  
  
  
Harry reaches out for him then, wrapping Louis up in his arms before settling back against the pillow, cradling him against his chest. He loves how soft and pliant Louis turns after he comes, the way he just _clings_ to Harry, making hushed little sounds, catching his breath.  
  
  
Harry kisses his hair, rocking him gently back and forth. “Fuck, you have no idea how good that makes me feel,” he murmurs, “knowing I can make you _come_ like that.” He pauses, thoughtful. “It’s almost like…reassuring in a way.”  
  
  
Louis hums dazedly, not lifting his head from where it’s tucked in the crook of Harry’s shoulder, “what d’you mean?”  
  
  
Harry bites his lip. “Well…I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, but like, you know how jealous I get sometimes…” he shrugs. “I guess I just figure if I can fuck you well enough, you won’t want anyone else.”  
  
  
Louis smiles with his eyes still closed. He shakes his head, blindly pecking a kiss to Harry’s throat, “never,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry sighs, relieved, and Louis suppresses a giggle. Harry has seemed especially possessive today for some reason. And Louis wonders if it’s because of their trip to the clinic – if finding out that Louis is pregnant threw Harry’s protectiveness over him into overdrive or something.  
  
  
Harry shifts his hips, his cock getting sensitive where it’s tucked inside of Louis. “’m still hard, baby,” he murmurs, wincing a bit. “Can I finish or do you want me to pull out?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, trailing kisses up Harry’s neck, until he’s sucking on the little spot below his ear. “Come in me,” he whispers.  
  
  
  
Harry doesn’t need to be told twice.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Later, with their bodies boneless but fantastically sated, they lie together in bed on top of the sheets, letting the sweat cool against their skin. Louis curls himself around a pillow, still hot with a blush, and Harry can’t take his eyes off of him, his fingers gentle where they brush his fringe back from his forehead.  
  
  
“I would do anything for you,” Harry whispers down to Louis’s soft, sleepy face, kissing his cheeks. “Absolutely anything you ever ask me to. You know that, right?”  
  
  
Louis hums in affirmation, peacefully, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  
  
  
Harry watches him, his eyes fond. He reaches out then, placing a hand over Louis’s belly, rubbing gently. “Got two of you to protect, now.”  
  
  
Louis snuffles, cuddling deeper into the pillow. “We’re hungry.”  
  
  
Harry grins, “yeah?” He glances up from Louis’s face then, his eyes landing on the far window and – Christ, when did it get so dark out? “Shit, that’s right,” he mutters, looking back at Louis guiltily. “You haven’t eaten.”  
  
  
“Mhmmm,” Louis murmurs, teasingly. “S’pose I could have, but _someone_ had other ideas in mind.”  
  
  
Harry groans, dotting Louis’s forehead with several apologetic kisses, “’m sorry, baby. I’m gonna run you a bath and then I’ll make you something to eat. What would you like?”  
  
  
“Uhm…I dunno? Whatever’s fine.”  
  
  
Harry hums, taking a mental inventory of the food that’s currently stocked up in the kitchen. “I could make some chicken casserole. You liked that last time, right?”  
  
  
“Mmm,” Louis nods with a yawn, “that sounds good.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Alright, then. Chicken casserole it is.” He climbs out of bed then, his bones giving a few satisfying cracks and his legs like gelatin. Thrown across the hamper in the corner is an old pair of joggers and he pulls them on, gingerly tucking his soft cock inside. Then he heads to the en-suite and starts up a bath, twisting at the taps and testing the water against his wrist until it’s just right.  
  
  
While the casserole is in the oven and Louis is in the bathtub, Harry strips the sheets from the bed and replaces them with a fresh set, before hopping in the shower. He’s in the middle of scrubbing a soaped-up flannel under his arms when the glass door slides open and Louis pads inside, still naked and dripping wet from his bath.  
  
  
Harry raises his brow. “Didn’t fancy the tub?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “I wanted company.”  
  
  
Harry chuckles. “Think you just wanted me to wash your hair for you,” he muses.  
  
  
Louis doesn’t say anything, just fetches the shampoo bottle from the shelf. He leans against Harry's chest like he always does when Harry washes his hair, his fingers massaging at his scalp. And it's one of Louis's favourite things in the entire world - the aftercare that Harry spoils him with after sex, how extra gentle and loving he is, pampering Louis until he's glowing from all of the affection.  
  
  
Louis tightens his arms around him, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world. He presses a kiss to Harry's chest. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"  
  
  
Harry smiles, "quite a lot, actually, but it's always nice to hear." And then he's tipping Louis's head back under the spray, rinsing away the shampoo.   
  
  
  
When it’s time for bed, Harry sets his work alarm and climbs under the sheets, pulling the duvet up over his chest. Louis follows after him, wearing one of Harry’s old band t-shirts. The neckline loosely falls to one side, showing off his collarbones. It’s ridiculously endearing, and Harry quickly cuddles him up, spooning him in from behind.  
  
  
  
  
They fall asleep just like that, with their hands cradling Louis’s tummy.

  
  
 


	16. Restraint

  
  
  
A light is going out in the closet.  
  
  
The bulb keeps flickering overhead, dimly clinging to its last few sparks of life. Louis frowns up at it and drops his towel, fresh out of the shower. He tugs on a pair of briefs and turns to face his reflection, already waiting for him in the full-length mirror that’s propped against the closet wall. He steps in front of it and looks down at his belly, rubbing his hands over the damp skin.  
  
  
At just nine weeks, there isn’t much to see yet, but looking at his tummy in the mirror has become a daily routine for Louis ever since his ultrasound appointment last week. If it weren’t for the occasional dizzy spell and bouts of nausea, he wouldn’t even _feel_ pregnant, and so he’s a little impatient for his belly to start growing, for something he can see with his own eyes rather than through a machine.  
  
  
Just as he’s slipping a t-shirt over his head, he hears the front door unlock. With a smile, Louis exits the closet, shutting off the dying light. He heads straight out of the bedroom and crosses the landing, pausing to greet Harry at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
  
His smile vanishes when he sees how terribly stressed Harry looks.  
  
  
A deep line is set between his furrowed brows, his hair tousled as if he had been running his hands through it all day. He drops his keys on the sideboard with a sigh and digs his phone from his back pocket, scowling at a long list of memos on the screen.  
  
  
Louis hesitates, wondering if he would prefer to be left alone. When Harry turns to see him standing there, however, his eyes soften a bit.  
  
  
“Hi, baby,” Harry murmurs, sounding tired but still managing a smile. He lifts his arm, beckoning Louis closer without a word.  
  
  
Louis goes easily, tucking himself against Harry’s chest. He wraps his arms around his waist, rubbing his hands up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. “Bad day?”  
  
  
Harry just nods, curling himself around Louis with a heavy sigh, as if he had been spent hours waiting for this kind of salvation, to come home and hold him.  
  
  
Louis let himself be held, frowning. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks, uncertain. He considers putting the kettle on, or maybe leading him over to the couch in the den and giving him a back massage. That always seems to help settle Harry down whenever he’s feeling angry, or stressed.  
  
  
Harry hums in thought, pulling Louis tighter against him. It’s quiet for a moment, neither one of them speaking, letting the day fade out into the silence and disappear, until it’s just the two of them. Nothing else exists.  
  
  
Harry exhales, nosing at the top of his head while his hands begin to wander, slipping up under Louis’s t-shirt to touch skin. And Louis realises, belatedly, that Harry must have something other than a cup of tea in mind.  
  
  
His intuition is proved correct when Harry’s hands slide down to the backs of his thighs, cupping just below the swell of his bottom. He kisses the tip of Louis’s ear, and then, in a low voice, he whispers, “let me play with you a little bit?”  
  
  
Louis vaguely remembers nodding before he’s being lifted up from the floor, effortlessly, as if he were actually weightless. He doesn’t think that will ever stop being a turn on—how easily Harry can pick him up, carry him around, have his way with him. Louis will probably never admit how much he likes to be manhandled.  
  
  
The truth is, he won’t have to admit it. Harry already knows. And with Louis’s legs draped around his waist, he carries him up the stairs to their bedroom, a look of determination in his eyes that sends a tiny tremor down Louis’s spine.  
  
  
The door snaps shut behind them and Harry sets Louis down, his hands already roaming and searching, tugging impatiently at his clothes. He pulls Louis’s t-shirt off, tosses it aimlessly towards the hamper, ridding himself of any unnecessary obstacles in his way. And then he’s pushing him back against the wall, pinning him there, shoving a thigh between his legs.  
  
  
“ _Baby_ ,” Harry murmurs, hiding his face in Louis’s neck.  
  
  
Louis barely has time to catch up to speed before Harry starts mouthing at the underside of his jaw, a little desperate. “God,” he whispers, shaking his head, his breath warm on Louis’s neck. “I’ve wanted this all day – you have no idea.”  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound and reaches out, tentatively, placing his hands on Harry’s sides. “What do you want?” he whispers, peering up at him through his lashes.  
  
  
Harry exhales, staring down at him, his eyes growing darker with each passing second. “I don’t even know, it’s just – today’s been shit. I’m…” he breaks off, shaking his head. “I just want – like, _control_. I wanna _take care_ of something – you.”  
  
  
Louis shivers at the confession, thankful for the wall that’s pressed against his back, keeping him on his feet. His knees are getting weak. Harry’s body is giving off some pretty powerful dominant vibes, and Louis can already feel himself going limp for him, bending easily.  
  
  
He thinks Harry can feel it, too. He ducks down to tilt their foreheads together, his hand flat against the wall beside Louis’s head. “Is that okay?” Harry whispers, nosing at his cheek, “will you let me?”  
  
  
Louis could never dream of saying no. He nods his head, and then Harry’s thigh starts to move against him, rubbing up against his groin.  
  
  
Louis sucks in a sharp breath. He’s getting _hard_ – his cock swelling up fast inside his briefs, Harry’s thigh creating the perfect amount of pressure and friction, letting Louis rock back against it. And then he’s being kissed, his lips coaxed apart – Harry’s mouth on him, eager and wet and searching.  
  
  
A tiny little whimper escapes Louis’s mouth, one that has Harry’s hands going straight to his hips, something close to a growl sounding low in his throat. He burrows his face in the crook of Louis’s neck, nuzzling. “Call me it,” Harry breathes.  
  
  
Louis trembles, his breathing staggered.  
  
  
“Come on,” Harry coaxes, gently, his thumb tracing circles on Louis’s belly. “Call me _Daddy_ , baby.”  
  
  
Louis swallows, hard. “…Daddy?” he breathes, barely a whisper.  
  
  
Harry nods, rubbing his thigh up against Louis’s cock in reward. “Again,” Harry whispers.  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis says, louder now, rocking back against him, “my Daddy.”  
  
  
Harry shudders, his hands clenching tight around his hips. Like he’d love nothing more than to pick Louis up and slide him down on to his cock, right then and there. He shakes his head as if to calm himself down, his teeth nibbling at the pulse-point in Louis’s throat. “God, ’m gonna fucking wreck you,” he whispers, nosing up his neck, to the freshly washed hair that curls behind his ear. He inhales deep, pressing kisses there, “…you smell so _good_ , baby.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, biting his lip. “Just had a shower.”  
  
  
Harry smirks against his throat. “Yeah? Cleaned yourself up just so I can get you nice and messy again?”  
  
  
Louis holds back a whine, his hips pushing out, growing impatient, “ _Daddy_ …”  
  
  
Harry shushes him, pulling his thigh away from Louis’s dick, leaving him hard and empty, the pressure gone.  
  
  
“Want you on the bed,” Harry tells him, dropping one last kiss to his forehead. “On your back. No touching.”  
  
  
Harry turns away then, heading towards his closet, and Louis has to take a moment to collect himself before he scrambles over to the bed, throwing back the duvet and situating himself on top of the sheets.  
  
  
Louis sinks back against the pillows, his heart fluttering, loud in his chest, weak with nervous anticipation. He can hear Harry rummaging around inside his closet, but he hasn’t got a clue what he’s looking for. Maybe Louis’s plug, or some other toy. He can’t be sure, so he just keeps quiet and waits, his fingers pinching at the sheets while he resists the urge to touch. His dick is pushing up against the cotton at the front of his briefs.  
  
  
Finally, Harry reappears, holding something in his hand that makes Louis’s pulse stutter to a halt. It’s not his plug, or any other kind of toy for that matter...It’s a silky pink ribbon, so deceptively innocent where it lies across Harry’s palm.  
  
  
The tremor in Louis’s spine is now electric.  
  
  
He tries not to fidget as Harry crosses the floor, sitting down on the bed beside him. The ribbon moves like water in his hands, and Louis watches as Harry slides it over his wide palm, through the gaps in his long fingers, testing it out. And then he looks up at Louis again for what feels like the first time in ages.  
  
  
“Lift your arms up,” Harry murmurs, a soft command.  
  
  
Louis’s brain short circuits at that, forgetting to breathe. His arms tremble as he raises both hands, resting them on the pillow behind his head.  
  
  
Harry leans in close, holding Louis’s wrists together as he loops the ribbon around them, sliding one end through a carved-out slot in the wooden headboard. He hesitates before tying a knot, looking down to check on him.  
  
  
“Louis, is this okay?” Harry asks, speaking clearly.  
  
  
Louis nods, slightly breathless, “yes.”  
  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
  
Louis nods again, keeping his arms still for him, “’m sure.”  
  
  
Harry searches his eyes for another moment and then nods, setting back to the task. He secures Louis’s wrists to the headboard, inspecting the knot from different angles, making sure that it isn’t too tight, and Louis’s heart is pounding like crazy because _he’s being tied up_. They’ve never done anything like this before.  
  
  
Harry pulls back then, carefully studying Louis’s face. “Baby, can you tell me your colour?”  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly – he’s _more_ than okay with this. “Green.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, brushing at his fringe, and Louis can’t help but to push up into the touch like a kitten. He’s already well past the point of pliant; every natural born instinct in his body has been telling him to _submit_ from the moment Harry carried him up the stairs, pinned him against the wall, tied a ribbon around his wrist.  
  
  
Harry keeps watching him, intently, like he’s still not entirely sure about this. He fluffs the pillows behind Louis’s back, making sure he’s comfortable. “If it gets to be too much, just tell me your word and we’ll stop, okay? Don’t keep going for my benefit. I know we haven’t done this before.”  
  
  
Louis watches him, curiously, nibbling at his lip. “You’ve thought about it before though, right?” he wonders aloud. “That’s why you’ve kept this in your closet?”  
  
  
Harry looks a bit sheepish at the question. He shrugs, his eyes lingering on the place where Louis’s wrists are restrained. “I’ve…thought about it, yeah. Tying you up. Having you under me…Doing whatever I want, while you can’t do anything but let me…” his eyes drop back down to meet Louis’s steady gaze. “But…only if it’s something _you_ wanted.”  
  
  
Louis expels the breath he was holding, aware of both the heat pumping fast to his groin, and the rush of gratitude he feels towards Harry, for never forgetting to take care of him like this. “I trust you,” Louis whispers, his arms tied above his head, relinquishing all control.  
  
  
Harry holds his gaze for a moment, magnetic in its intensity, and then he’s leaning in close, bringing their lips together, soft as a whisper. “You know how important that is to me, right? That you trust me?”  
  
  
Louis nods, letting himself be kissed.  
  
  
Harry cradles his face in his hands, touching him like he’s made of glass. “I never, ever want to hurt you,” he whispers, their mouths brushing. “I just want to make you feel good.” He takes Louis’s bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling at it in a way that has Louis’s eyes rolling back. “Don’t want to stop until you’re begging me.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “I don’t want you to stop.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, kissing him soft and slow once more before pulling away. He stands up from the bed then, and Louis watches him undress.  
  
  
By now, he has his every move memorised, but somehow, it never gets old: the slow unzip of Harry’s jeans, his fingers working expertly at the buttons of his top, revealing more and more of his abdomen before the shirt falls from his shoulders completely. He pushes the hair back from his face and then, reaching down, Harry cups himself through his briefs to relieve some of the ache there, before pulling those off as well. His cock sways between his legs, big and full, and Louis can do nothing but stare, watching from his place on the bed.  
  
  
He glances up at the knot that’s tied above his head. He wiggles his arms, tugging at the silk ribbon just to test out the feeling. It doesn’t relent, holding his wrists firmly in place, and Louis feels weightless like this, restrained and so very helpless.  
  
  
He couldn’t escape, even if he wanted to, and it’s that – realising just how much _control_ he’s given up without the use of his arms and hands, how he’s quite literally trapped here, naked and tied to the bed until Harry decides to let him go – that’s when it truly sinks in, the level of trust that exists between them, how much of himself he’s laid down in Harry’s hands. His heart pounds with it. And he’s met with both a visceral, clinging need to be closer to him, and an unwavering faith that Harry would never go too far, never leave his sight – never leave him at all. Not like this.  
  
  
The mattress dips as Harry climbs back onto the bed, straddling Louis with a knee pinned on either side of his torso, careful to keep his weight raised up off of him.  
  
  
For a long moment, Harry does nothing but stare down at Louis, curiously, like he can’t decide what he wants to do to him first. He keeps his hands folded behind his back while he weighs his options, denying Louis any touch. Only his eyes travel the length of Louis’s body, pausing in certain spots: the ghost of a curve at his hip, the soft skin of his belly and the dusty pink colour of his nipples, the way his arms give an occasional twitch from above his head, not used to being restrained.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Harry’s cock is hard where it’s curving up from his groin, pressed flat to his abdomen, slightly intimidating as it hovers over Louis’s face. It’s impossible not to stare. And Louis wants so badly to reach out and touch it, wrap his fingers around the tip and feel it pulse against his palm, but he _can’t_. It’s never been like this before. He’s never known this kind of denial. Every single one of his instincts – to reach out and touch and move and feel, have all been thwarted by a pretty pink ribbon.  
  
  
Harry just keeps looking at him, his expression unreadable. Louis fidgets, getting impatient. A small, sad sound escapes his lips, and Harry quirks his brow, intrigued. He follows the line of Louis’s gaze, realises that he’s eyeing his dick. And Harry bites back a smirk.  
  
  
With his eyes locked on Louis’s face, Harry reaches down, and Louis watches, helpless, as he starts to play with himself, sliding a fist over his cock.  
  
  
It’s a slow burn performance, laid out front and center before Louis’s wide-open eyes, an act meant to tempt and tease him—And it’s working. Harry takes his time, of course, letting his fingers get a feel for each and every inch of his length, stroking easily, enjoying it. He gives himself a squeeze, around the base where he’s the thickest, jutting out from a neat patch of hair. He dips down to cup his balls, rolling them in his palm, making the tip twitch at the touch. He slides back up over the shaft, thumbing at a vein there. And then he curls his fist up and starts tugging gently in quick little pumps, just below the head. Louis turns pink as he watches, powerless, his fingers clenching where they’re tied, itching to touch.  
  
  
Harry’s breathing picks up as he jerks off, letting out an occasional grunt that has Louis writhing under him, getting more and more frustrated. Harry touching himself always _does something_ to Louis, but it’s made a hundred times worse now that he can’t do anything but watch, tied down to the bed under him, his eyes trained on each movement of Harry’s hand. A vein keeps bulging in his forearm. His bicep flexes whenever he pumps his fist over his cock, slapping wetly.  
  
  
The sound is positively filthy, punctured with Harry’s laboured breathing and an occasional groan, and Louis is _dying_ for some kind of attention, his cock neglected and aching inside his briefs.  
  
  
Harry slows down then, his chest flushed and glistening with sweat and his gaze still locked on Louis’s face. He rubs his thumb in a little circle over the tip, coaxing, until a bead of precome appears, shiny and wet as it dribbles out from his slit, and Louis actually whines for it, desperate, his arms struggling fitfully against his restraints. He doesn’t even care how needy he sounds – how depraved it feels to beg like this. He wants to have Harry in his mouth. He wants his cock; wants to taste, and suck, and please him.  
  
  
After what seems like _hours_ of Harry wanking over him _,_ finally, he relents, scooting in close, raised up on his knees. He holds his cock around the base, guiding himself forward until the tip rests against Louis’s chin, wet with slick.  
  
  
Louis freezes, breathing shallowly against the skin, not sure what’s allowed. And Harry smiles, reaching out his other hand to stroke Louis’s hair. “You can taste it, if you want.”  
  
  
Louis shivers at that, being given permission. He parts his lips, leaving them wet and open, and then he’s flicking his tongue in tiny kitten licks over Harry’s tip.  
  
  
Harry hisses out a breath, his shoulders sagging weakly at the feeling, watching as Louis’s tongue wriggles against him. He traces over his slit, kissing in between licks, lapping up the precome there. “ _Daddy_ ,” Louis sighs, pleased when even more dribbles out, his cock getting wetter. Louis licks him clean and then makes a small, needy sound for more, gazing up at Harry, his eyes wide and innocent. And Harry curses under his breath before nudging his hips forward, dipping the tip of his cock inside Louis’s pliant, open mouth.  
  
  
Louis hums appreciatively, closing his lips tight around him, his eyes falling closed as he starts to suck.  
  
  
“Fuck, baby,” Harry whispers through gritted teeth, swaying forward. He catches himself on the headboard, flattening his hand.  
  
  
Louis’s skin glows at that, knowing he’s making him feel good, sucking on his cock like this. With his arms restrained, he can only manage to raise up slightly from the pillow and bob his head, but he keeps his lips wrapped tight around Harry’s tip, heavy on his tongue, his mouth making wet little sounds as he sucks.  
  
  
Harry keeps his hips still, biting down hard on his lip. He’s resisting the impulse to rut forward and fuck his mouth, has to be careful not to gag him. He grips himself with one hand, feeding his cock into Louis’s mouth while his other hand reaches out, cradling his jaw and helping guide his movements. “Good boy,” Harry murmurs down to him, brushing a thumb behind his ear. “Suck the tip, baby, just like that.”  
  
  
Louis moans for him. He suckles and slurps, flattening his tongue to lap at the underside, feeling rewarded when more of Harry’s precome leaks out, bittersweet. He pulls back to catch his breath, pressing needy kisses all over Harry’s head – wherever he can reach – before he’s closing his lips tight around him again, his tongue digging messily into the slit.  
  
  
" _Christ_ ," Harry whispers, slamming his hand against the headboard, and Louis whimpers, doubling his efforts.  
  
  
Above him, Harry keeps letting out little grunts and moans of approval, petting Louis’s hair as he watches him suck his cock. Louis is addicted to every sound, every touch, every hitch of his breath and murmured praise, wanting to be so, so good for him. He wants to make him _come_. And Harry looks down at him the whole time, his pupils blown, pressing his thumb into the hollow in Louis’s cheek. “God,” Harry whispers, awestruck. “Your little mouth feels so fucking good, baby. Sucking me like this.”  
  
  
Louis mewls at the praise and bobs his head faster, eager to please. But he only gets in a few more slurps before Harry suddenly pulls back, his cockhead slipping out of Louis’s mouth with a slick _pop_.  
  
  
Louis gapes up at him, confused and out of breath, his lips wet.  
  
  
Harry just smiles. “My turn, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis barely has time to process that before Harry is lying down over him, a warm weight between his thighs, keeping Louis properly pinned to the bed, his wrists still tied to the headboard.  
  
  
Harry smiles at the dazed expression on Louis’s face, glossy eyes and puffy pink lips. “You okay?” he whispers, brushing Louis’s fringe back from his forehead.  
  
  
Louis just nods. His mind is starting to feel a bit hazy, everything slowing down.  
  
  
“You sure?” Harry asks, glancing up at the knot. “Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too tight?”  
  
  
Louis nods. “Promise.”  
  
  
Harry smiles again, kissing his nose. “I love you, baby,” he whispers.  
  
  
“Love you,” Louis whispers back, and he bites his lip as Harry gets a hand between them.  
  
  
It slides down Louis’s chest, his palm flat, petting over his belly before slipping between his legs. And Louis makes a soft sound, his thighs falling open as Harry cups the small bulge in his briefs.  
  
  
It’s the first real touch Louis has had against his dick, and he shudders with it, Harry’s palm rubbing him up and down, nice and slow. “Already so hard,” Harry murmurs, his voice low and warm with approval. He gives his cock a little squeeze and Louis mewls for it, his head tipping back against the pillow. Harry kisses up his neck, his lips catching on Louis’s earlobe while he plays with his cock.  
  
  
Louis closes his eyes, lets himself feel, relieved to finally have some kind of friction there, the pressure of Harry’s hand dulling the ache. “Shit,” he whispers, feeling a bit of precome dribbling out.  
  
  
Harry just keeps _rubbing_ him, nipping at Louis’s neck, listening to all the sounds he makes, the soft little sighs and gasps of frustration as Harry's hand speeds up and then slows back down, not letting him come. He gives him another squeeze, _right_ over his tip, and Louis squirms against him. He’s getting wet. And Harry smirks, nuzzling behind his ear. “So good for me, aren’t you, baby?” he whispers, letting Louis rut against his palm, his hips bucking needily up from the bed. He’s starting to pant a bit, his cheeks flushed as he pushes up into Harry’s hand, humping it, and Harry pulls back just to watch him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck, you’re horny.”  
  
  
Louis goes pink, nodding his head. There’s no point in lying; he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this turned on. It’s written all over his face. And when Harry smiles and takes his hand away, Louis frowns at the loss of touch, his wrist flinching against the ribbon.  
  
  
The next thing he knows, his hips are being pressed down into the mattress, Harry’s hands gentle, but commanding. “Don’t come yet,” he whispers, pecking a quick kiss to Louis’s lips, trailing down his throat, to his collarbones, to his chest, getting lower…  
  
  
With his arms tied behind his head, Louis can only lie back and watch as Harry’s head slowly drifts further and further down, his soft hair falling across his face and tickling at Louis’s tummy. He noses below his belly button, pressing little suckling kisses all over the skin. Every touch is so featherlight and tingly, Louis feels goosebumps sprouting up at the nape of his neck, his toes curling against the sheets.  
  
  
Harry pauses then, propped up on his elbows, his hands around Louis’s waist. He’s staring fondly down at the bulge in his briefs, where Louis's dick is all fattened up and poking through the cotton. Harry ducks his head, _nuzzling_ his face against it, and then he’s mouthing at him, so fucking tempting Louis could weep, his hips pushing up for more. But Harry just pins him down again and pulls his mouth away, teasing him, nosing back up towards his hip. He takes the waistband of Louis’s underwear between his teeth, nibbling at it, tugging it up and away before letting it snap back against his skin.  
  
  
Louis feels like he’s going out of his mind, his hands restless where they twitch against the ribbon, getting more and more worked up from all of the teasing, the soft, slow touches, _infuriatingly_ gentle – it’s never enough. It’s maddening. He wriggles and whines, his hips canting up, desperate for Harry’s mouth – anything to make him come. But Harry just keeps touching him over his briefs, tortuously slow, kissing at the tip until a little wet patch appears. Harry’s eyes darken at that. He latches his lips to it, sucking at Louis’s precome through the cotton.  
  
  
Louis hisses out a breath, his hips shying away. “Fuck, fuck – please – _please_ ,” he begs, not entirely sure what he’s asking for.  
  
  
“Shh,” Harry whispers, slipping his thumbs under his waistband. “Let’s get you out of these, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis is more than happy to comply. The air is cool against his skin as Harry tugs his briefs down and off, leaving him naked, his dick pink and full where it curves up towards his belly.  
  
  
Harry lies back down on his stomach and lifts Louis at the hips, draping a thigh over each of his shoulders before he scoots in even closer. And Louis watches as he buries his head between his legs, and starts mouthing wetly at the tip of his cock.  
  
  
“Oh!” Louis squeaks, his leg kicking out. It’s like a shock to his spine after all of that teasing and foreplay – his nerves firing all at once, over stimulated. Pain blurs into some kind of mind-numbing pleasure, his cock pulsing hard with the need to come, and he trembles with it, gasping quietly. “ _Harry_ ,” he whines, tensing up.  
  
  
Harry makes a low noise of disapproval at that, his hand swatting at Louis's hip with a fleshy _smack_.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip on moan, collapsing back against the pillow as Harry sucks him. “Daddy…” he whispers, correcting himself.  
  
  
Harry pulls off, smiling. “That’s right, baby,” he says, dropping another kiss to Louis’s tip before taking him between his lips again.  
  
  
By now, Louis is so worked up that the slightest touch has him gagging for it, his tip swollen and sensitive in Harry’s mouth. Harry bobs his head on his cock, taking Louis deep, and Louis wants to reach out, wants to thread his fingers through Harry’s hair, keep his head in that spot _right there,_ but he can’t. All he can do is rut his hips, helpless and thrashing against the sheets, until Harry pins him down again with both hands, holding him still as he starts sucking _hard_ on his tip, making Louis shudder and cry.  
  
  
“uh, uh, uh – coming – m’coming,” Louis whimpers, his body winding up like a spring, but Harry pulls away just in time, his mouth leaving him cold and wet and fit to burst at the tip, and Louis makes a destroyed sound at the denied release, dropping back against the pillow, miserably shaking his head, “no, no – don’t stop – please – please, don’t stop.”  
  
  
Harry gives him a sympathetic look, reaching up to rub his belly. “I have to, baby. You’re getting so close.”  
  
  
Louis _is_ getting close – his cock is positively throbbing with it, needing to come so bad. “Hurts,” he whispers, feeling a bit tearful.  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound, petting over his hip. “I know, baby. But I don’t want you to come yet. Not until you’ve got me inside you.” He turns his head, kissing at the inside of Louis’s thigh. “Want you to come on my cock.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, already trembling at the thought – having Harry inside him, fucking him 'til he comes. He wants it so much.  
  
  
Harry starts nibbling up high on his inner thigh, sucking a bruise there, where the skin is delicate and soft. “You can wait just a little bit longer, yeah? Let Daddy play with you some more?”  
  
  
Louis takes several deep breaths, trying to ignore the dull ache in his cock, pleading for release. “O-okay,” he stutters, exhaling shakily, bracing himself...He thinks he knows _exactly_ where this is heading…Harry’s lips keeps moving closer and closer…his head getting lower…  
  
  
And then his thumbs are spreading him open, and Louis feels Harry’s mouth brushing over his hole.  
  
  
His whole body jerks against the restraints, his thighs giving a jolt of shock where they’re draped over Harry’s shoulders. And then he’s _moaning_ , all high-pitched and needy while Harry’s lips move against him, kissing him, his mouth open and wet, dragging up and down…  
  
  
“Oh – oh my _god_ ,” Louis whispers, practically melting into the sheets, his lashes fluttering to a close as Harry kisses between his legs.  
  
  
Harry pulls back just to look at him, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his rim, making it flutter at the touch. “You’re so pretty down here, baby,” he murmurs, dotting more and more soft little kisses all over the skin.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, it’s so much – _too much_. He tries to pull away but he _can’t_ , the ribbon holding him securely in place, Harry bracketing him in with his arms wound around his hips, wrapped up in his thighs. And then he starts lapping at him with his tongue and Louis is done for – shaking and crying out.  
  
  
“Daddy – _Daddy_ ,” he whines, his eyes clenched shut, back arching up from the bed, “oh – oh – _oh_.”  
  
  
Harry’s nose bumps against him as he nuzzles closer, softly flicking his tongue over Louis’s pink little hole, humming happily when he hears Louis’s surprised gasp that turns into a drawn-out moan, writhing against the sheets while Harry eats him out. He pulls his mouth away, taking a breath. “Does that feel good, baby?”  
  
  
Louis just whines and nods, squirming worse than ever when Harry spreads him open wider, wriggling his tongue past that tight ring of muscle, getting him wet…  
  
  
“Ah – _ah_ ,” Louis cries, jerking against the ribbon, his hips rocking down, desperate. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me – please just fuck me - _please_ ,” he begs, maybe babbling a bit, not even present enough to care.  
  
  
Harry’s hips grind down into the mattress – his cock getting impossibly harder just listening to Louis – _loud_ and begging to be fucked. He swirls his tongue in a tiny, insistent circle, smirking at the sound Louis makes, always so overwhelmed when his Daddy goes down on him. “Please,” he whimpers again.  
  
  
Harry flattens his tongue, lapping at him a few more times in slow, fat stripes. Then he presses one last kiss to his hole and lets Louis’s legs fall from his shoulders, wiping at his mouth.  
  
  
Louis looks thoroughly debauched when Harry crawls back up the bed, finds him trembling as he waits, his lip pink from where he’s been biting it to hold back his sounds, his skin flushed all over, hot to the touch. They’ve been at it for more than an hour, and Harry’s kept him on the edge of orgasm the entire time. He smiles, ducking his head to kiss Louis’s cheek.  
  
  
He’s almost feverish with need, his cock lying in a little wet spot on his belly where he’s leaked and leaked. Louis miserably stares down at it and then looks up at Harry with a pitiful sound, his eyes pleading.  
  
  
“Shh, Daddy's got you, baby,” Harry murmurs, brushing his fringe back from his forehead. "I'm gonna let you come soon, I promise.”  
  
  
Louis sighs in relief, inhaling deeply to catch his breath. He watches as Harry sits up on his knees, reaching towards the ribbon that ties him to the headboard.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head in protest, “no, no, leave it – please? I – I like it,” he admits, blushing.  
  
  
Harry smiles down at him. “I’m not taking it off, baby. Just gonna loosen it a little bit. The knot’s gotten tighter ‘cause you’ve been squirmin' so much.”  
  
  
Louis flushes even harder at that, watching Harry fiddle with the ribbon before he lies back down between his legs, his hands coming up to cradle Louis’s face.  
  
  
Harry looks down at him, his eyes fond and full of open adoration. His thumb brushes at Louis’s cheekbone. “You’ve been so good for me,” he whispers. “It’s your first time using the ribbon, but you’ve taken everything so well. Did everything I asked you to. Just perfect.”  
  
  
Louis smiles back, a little shy.  
  
  
Harry keeps petting him, his fingers soft where they brush at his fringe. “You’re gonna feel so nice,” he tells him, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna make you come _so_ much, baby. Been such a good boy.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers at the word “come.”  
  
  
Harry’s eyes drop to his mouth, keeping his gaze there for a moment before he brings their lips together. And Louis lies very still, making small, breathy sounds as Harry licks into his mouth. He rolls his hips down and Louis can feel him – hard as steel where he’s pressed against his thigh, eager to fuck, and Louis mewls for it.  
  
  
" _Daddy_."  
  
  
Harry starts to rut, dragging his cock against him, his breathing picking back up again, hushed against Louis’s mouth. “You gonna let me have you like this? Fuck you while you’re all tied up?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his thighs already falling open while Harry blindly reaches over to the bedside table drawer, digging around for the lube. He drizzles some out into his palm and opens Louis up with his fingers, slow and gradually, bringing him right back to the edge again before he finally pulls out, slicking himself up.  
  
  
And Louis never knew it would feel so good to be so powerless, under Harry’s total and complete control, his arms restrained with a pretty pink bow as Harry settles between his thighs, lifting Louis at the hips as he lines himself up at his hole.  
  
  
He tugs Louis closer, throwing his legs around his middle. He locks his hands around his waist. And then he slides him down onto his cock.  
  
  
Louis gasps out, his eyes going wide, head dropping back against the pillow, and suddenly he’s not empty anymore, Harry nestled deep inside him – _finally_. He bites his lip, so relieved to have something thick and hard to clench down on he could _cry_ , “yes, yes – _please_.”  
  
  
Harry starts to pump his hips and Louis sees stars, getting lost in how nice it is to be filled, how _big_ Harry feels each time he moves inside him, dragging in and out, their hips knocking together, desperate.  
  
  
Harry sets the pace, maneuvering Louis however he wants, and all Louis can do is lay back and let him, and _feel_ him; his body limp and useless, jostled up the bed with each thrust, his wrists still tied to the headboard, listening to it rhythmically tap against the wall as they fuck. Harry’s thumbs are pressing bruises into his hipbones, lifting him up before slamming him back down onto his cock, over and over again, knocking right into Louis’s spot.  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis gasps, “ _Daddy_.”  
  
  
Harry’s hips stutter at the word, determined to keep Louis moaning for him like that, his hands locked tight around his waist as he pounds away at his hole. “Fuck, look at you _take it_ ,” Harry grunts, pitching forward. “So full of me. Fucking made for my cock, weren’t you, baby?”  
  
  
Louis’s face flames, ashamed and ridiculously turned on by the dirty talk, his thighs quivering where they’re draped over Harry’s hips, jiggling each time he slams back inside. He screws his face up, biting at his lip. “Daddy, it’s _so good_ ,” he whimpers, slurring a bit.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry pants. “Gonna come?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his eyes clenched shut.  
  
  
Harry grits his teeth, pumping his hips even faster. “Gonna come for Daddy? Get your tummy all wet?”  
  
  
Louis actually sobs, nodding his head.  
  
  
Harry pushes his thighs apart, fucking him good and hard, and then he thrusts in deep and _stays_ there, circling his hips in tight little circles, so that his cockhead grinds right into Louis's spot. Louis nearly screams, his prick twitching violently against his belly, blushing and blurting precome. "Ah - ah - _yes..._ Daddy - _mmnn_."  
  
  
“There you go,” Harry whispers. He reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Louis’s swollen pink cock. “Let’s get you to come, baby. Been such a good boy.”  
  
  
Louis cries out, his body seizing up, shuddering and sensitive.  
  
  
"Go on," Harry murmurs. He keeps tugging on his cock, coaxing gently. “Just let it out, baby. Show Daddy how good he’s making you feel, fucking your tiny little hole.”  
  
  
Louis breaks at that, his mouth falling open on a silent shout, and then he’s _coming_ – comes so hard his mind blanks out, every nerve in his body lighting up with an orgasm, moaning and shaking and so fucking pretty, his cock spilling warm and wet all over his belly, and by the time he comes back down, Harry’s hips are knocking furiously against his own, panting where he hovers over him, rutting and desperate. “Baby – _baby_ …uh – uh… _fuck_ , baby, ‘m coming.” And then his cock is pulsing deep inside Louis, his come spurting out in hot, wet pumps.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry recovers first, reaching up to untie the knot. The ribbon unravels, and Louis’s arms fall to his sides, limp and heavy. Immediately, Harry takes both of Louis’s hands into his own, inspecting his wrists. He frowns at the red marks his finds there, lines from the ribbon’s edge still imprinted into Louis’s skin.  
  
  
Harry’s eyebrows pull together in concern, his frown deepening, “…I didn’t think I tied it that tight.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head with a yawn, feeling sleepy and sated. “You didn’t – it’s just cause I was struggling.”  
  
  
Harry still doesn’t look happy, tracing his finger over one of the marks. “I…fuck, Louis. I got too carried away. I’m so sorry – I should have checked on it more often.”  
  
  
Louis tuts and shakes his head, pulling his hands back into his lap. “Babe…it’s fine. Really. It’s just a mark, they’ll be gone in an hour.”  
  
  
Harry keeps frowning, pouting a bit now. “But…I could have really hurt you.”  
  
  
“But you didn’t,” Louis insists. “I feel fine. _More_ than fine. That was – fucking amazing,” he admits, his cheeks warm, voice softening around the last word.  
  
  
Harry studies his face, like he’s expecting to find some sort of disappointment hidden there in Louis’s eyes, but Louis feels nothing but adoration. He secretly loves when Harry fusses over him like this. He gives him a smile and Harry slowly returns it, apologetically still. “I need to put some lotion on that,” he says, rising up from the bed. “Don’t get up.”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t think he could manage it, his body boneless, mind still pleasantly fuzzy from his orgasm. He could really use a nap.  
  
  
When Harry comes back, he spends ages rubbing soothing lotion all over Louis’s arms and wrists, pleased when the marks start to disappear after just a few minutes, none of them deep enough to last.  
  
  
“Thank you,” Louis whispers once he’s finished, leaning up to peck a kiss to Harry’s cheek.  
  
  
“I love you,” Harry whispers back.  
  
  
Louis just smiles, rolling over onto his side. He’s hit with a dizzy spell at the sudden change in position and claps a hand to his forehead to steady himself, inhaling sharply.  
  
  
Harry’s on him immediately, his face filling with worry once again. “Baby? What’s wrong?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Just – got dizzy.”  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “Dizzy? From what?”  
  
  
“It’s nothing you did, it’s one of the symptoms,” Louis mutters, nodding to the stack of pregnancy books on the nightstand.  
  
  
“Oh,” Harry says, his shoulders sagging in relief. He shakes his head, snapping back into action, already pushing up from the bed. “I – what can I do? Can I get you anything?”  
  
  
Louis smiles weakly, curling himself around a pillow.  
  
  
  
“Tea would be nice.”  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. Three Thousand Miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaack :)
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> if you've been keeping up with me on my blog, you probably know why i had to take a hiatus from writing last year, and i just want to thank everyone who stuck around and encouraged me to keep going. this one's for you.
> 
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> anyway, clocking in at just shy of 25k, this is the longest chapter yet. i hope you'll like it.
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> xx

 

March arrives, drawing closer to spring. Snow that once coated the back gardens melts to slush, replaced with a near-constant shower of sleet and rain, and just like that, more and more symptoms start to appear, like notches on Louis’s list. He’s been waiting for this.  
  
  
Things seem to hit full-force midway through his tenth week, what with his clothes getting tighter around the waist and the nausea that still creeps up on occasion, usually at the most inopportune times. Zayn has been eyeing him suspiciously ever since he dropped his fork in the middle of dinner one night and scrambled from the dining table while Harry made excuses, keeping his voice measuredly light and casual.  
  
  
“You could be an actor,” Louis murmured under his breath, later, as they did the washing up.  
  
  
Harry grinned, scrubbing steak-remnants from a plate with a sponge. “Maybe in another life.”  
  
  
If one thing is for sure, the books weren’t lying when they said that fatigue was extremely common in the first trimester. Lately Louis has spent most of his days sleeping well into the afternoons, still a bit groggy and listless even after he wakes. He just feels so _tired_ all the time, never too far removed from drifting off into a nice, long nap—typically filled with the most vivid and senseless of dreams; dancing palm trees and talking mice. His back hurts sometimes, his nipples are getting sore, and to top it all off, his tummy feels achy and bloated, like it’s starting to stretch around something he can’t even see yet.  
  
  
It would be easy to complain but Louis doesn’t—not much. Sure, it’s not exactly _pleasant_ , but each symptom is just a reminder of the fact that he’s pregnant, and it’s finally happening, and he’s still too ecstatic about that to worry about the rest. Everything is so new to him – all of it – in a way that can even make something as mundane as _indigestion_ exciting, for when he flips through one of the dozens of pregnancy books he’s collected, he nods to himself and thinks _yep, there’s another sign_. It’s like a positive affirmation, proving what would otherwise be unnoticeable, so far. His belly still looks the same as always.  
  
  
He keeps a tape measure by the mirror in the closet. Watching, waiting, killing time.  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s another late afternoon when Louis wakes up from a nap on the couch in the den, curled up under his favourite patched quilt. As if on cue, his stomach gives a low growl, hunger nagging at him like clockwork these days. With a drawn-out yawn, he rolls over and rubs at his eyes, working up the energy to stand before slowly toddling off to the kitchen in search of sustenance, his hair sticking up at the back like it always does after he’s slept.  
  
  
He finds himself in a familiar spot: staring into the open doors of the refrigerator, weighing his options. Some things look _okay_ , while others look so totally unappetizing his stomach gives a twist just at the thought of eating them. Not to mention, his sense of smell is particularly heightened lately, making him sensitive to the aromas of certain foods. And there’s some things that he used to enjoy quite a lot that he just can’t find a real taste for now.  
  
  
It makes deciding on what to eat a bit of a challenge. He’s definitely hungry for something, but he can’t figure out what it is. He’s just about to give up, head over to check inside the kitchen pantry instead, when he spots a jar of olives towards the back of the fridge, half-hidden behind the mayonnaise. They’re brown kalamata olives, the ones Harry uses when he makes Greek salad, and yes, perfect. They’re exactly what Louis wants.  
  
  
With eager hands, he grabs the jar and quickly dishes out some spoonfuls into a bowl, making sure to add a dash of the juice as well. It’s heavenly when he takes that first bite, and he chews slowly, letting out a low, satisfied sound while savoring the juice. Maybe it’s a bit weird, but he really can’t be bothered to care.

  
Distantly, he hears the rumble of the garage door and he knows that means Harry is home from work. Sure enough, he rounds the corner moments later, looking windswept from the rain. “Hey, love,” Harry says, his brow furrowing curiously when he spots the open jar on the worktop, “…are you eating olives?”  
  
  
Louis just nods, taking another bite.  
  
  
“Huh. Thought you didn’t like those much.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, sucking the juice from his thumb, “changed my mind.”  
  
  
Harry smiles knowingly but doesn’t say anything. He’s rather amused by Louis’s new habits. It’s cute.  
  
  
Louis holds up an olive, offering. “Want some?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “They’re all yours, baby. Thank you, though.” He fishes his iPhone out of his pocket then, glancing at the time with a sigh. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.”  
  
  
Louis finishes chewing, setting the empty bowl aside in the sink. “What for?”  
  
  
“Got called into a meeting,” Harry says, scrubbing a hand down over his face, “in New York.”  
  
  
Louis’s movements slow at that and he leans back against the worktop with a frown, nodding for him to continue.  
  
  
Harry winces, looking guilty. “Sorry – I’d take you with me but I had to book a flight last minute. Got the last seat on the plane,” he explains.  
  
  
Louis shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s okay…don’t think I’m up for traveling at the moment anyway. I’ve been feeling really tired.”  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound at that, his brows knitting together in concern. “Still?”  
  
  
When Louis nods, Harry steps closer and wraps him up in his arms, rubbing at the small of his back. “D’you think we should call the doctor?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head from where he’s tucked against Harry’s chest. “I already did this morning, just to check. She said it’s perfectly normal in the first few months, so…” he trails off with another shrug.  
  
  
Harry’s hand slides around to the front then, gently touching at Louis’s belly, “…I don’t have to go,” he murmurs, wracking his brain for some alternative solution, “I – I might be able to find someone to fill in for me, if you’re not feeling well—”  
  
  
“Don’t,” Louis shakes his head, shying away. “It’s just a little fatigue, m’fine.”  
  
  
Harry nods, though still uncertain. He hugs Louis tighter and peppers the top of his head with tiny, apologetic kisses.  
  
  
Louis leans his weight against him, his eyes falling closed, wishing he could curl up on Harry’s chest and take a nap, “…what time do you leave, then?”  
  
  
“My flight’s in two hours,” Harry sighs. “You wanna lie down for a bit while I pack?”  
  
  
  
  
Upstairs, Louis climbs into bed and tucks himself around a pillow, watching as Harry pulls a massive suitcase down from the top shelf of his closet. He opens the flap and lays it out on the bed, unzipping the pockets. Then he darts into the en-suite, returning moments later with his toothbrush and shampoo and a handful of other toiletries—including a bottle of lube.  
  
  
Louis narrows his eyes at that, giving Harry a pointed look. “What do you need that for?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs, unabashed. “Just in case.”  
  
  
Louis pouts, “just in case of what?”  
  
  
“A spontaneous erection?” Harry offers, smiling cheekily.  
  
  
Louis keeps pouting so Harry chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m not going to use it with _someone else_. Just me, love. You know I hate wanking with a dry hand.” He drops the lube into his suitcase, ducking down to press a kiss to Louis’s lips. “After all,” he murmurs, nuzzling at him, his voice low, “I’m going to have to spend five _very_ long days without you climbing on top of me every night, asking to be fucked.”  
  
  
Louis makes a sound like an indignant cat. “Think you’ve got that backwards,” he whispers. “ _You’re_ the one who does the climbing.”  
  
  
Harry just laughs, pressing their lips together again. He moves to pull away but Louis’s fingers reach out to touch his hair, keeping him there, prolonging the kiss for just a few more seconds. All of this talk of lube and fucking has him feeling a bit warm under his shirt collar. He lets go, reluctantly, and curls himself around the pillow again. If only they had more time…  
  
  
Harry moves quickly around the room, from his suitcase to the closet and then back again, rummaging through drawers and gathering up an armful of clothes, ranging from jeans and joggers to t-shirts and button-up tops, leather boots and thick coats for the outdoor weather.  
  
  
Louis yawns into his palm, watching as Harry searches for his passport. “What’s New York like?”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “Lively. Lots of traffic. It’s the city that never sleeps, according to Sinatra.” He turns, setting a black leather carry-on bag down on the bed and tucking his wallet inside. “I’ll take you there, sometime soon. Not for a business trip, but as a holiday.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, tracing his fingertip along the spiral pattern of a throw pillow, “…I’d like that.”  
  
  
Harry takes off his clothes then, stripping down until he’s completely nude, standing like some sort of sculpture in the middle of his walk-in closet. Louis stares appreciatively from the bed, his eyes lingering in certain places: the dip in his back, the sparse hair under his arms, the strip of muscle connecting his hip to his groin. He watches as Harry sifts through a drawer before pulling on a fresh pair of briefs and dark jeans, slipping a belt through the loops. He shrugs into a loose white button-up top, rolling the sleeves up past his elbows while a few silver chains dangle from his neck, matching the rings on his long fingers. Then he steps into his boots, carding a hand up through his hair.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, fidgeting a bit while he shamelessly ogles Harry from the bed. He just looks so _good_ …it’s such a shame he has to go.  
  
  
Oblivious, Harry checks the time on his iPhone again, cursing under his breath. He dumps a pile of socks and briefs unceremoniously onto the bed and then heads for the door, pushing the hair back from his face, “gotta get my laptop.”  
  
  
Louis sits up, folding the clothes into neat little piles before placing them into the suitcase, so everything fits inside. He can tell Harry is feeling stressed from having to rush and wants to help.  
  
  
Harry comes back only moments later, hastily winding the charger cord around his MacBook. He sets it down on the bed, shaking his head in surprise when he sees the clothes have been folded and packed away for him. He drops a kiss to Louis’s hair. “Thank you, baby.”  
  
  
Louis just nods, tucking the last pair of socks inside. “What about your phone charger?”  
  
  
“Shit,” Harry mutters, hurrying to the other side of the bed to unplug the cord from the wall.  
  
  
Once he has everything packed, Harry backs away and glances slowly around the room, doing a mental checklist, making sure he didn’t forget anything. Then he nods, shoving his phone into his back pocket.  
  
  
“Do you need me to drive you to the airport?” Louis asks.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, “it’s alright, I’ve called a cab. Should be here in about five minutes.” He throws the carry-on bag over his shoulder and wraps his fingers around the handle of the suitcase, pausing when he realises he has to say goodbye to Louis now. This all happened so suddenly.  
  
  
Harry shifts on his feet, feeling guilty for leaving him, “…want me to say goodbye here so you can stay in bed?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, moving to get up. “I don’t mind.”  
  
  
  
They make their way back down the stairs, to the foyer by the front door, and Harry stops, looking back at Louis. It hits him suddenly that they haven’t spent a single night apart since he moved in. Even when they went through a bit of a rough patch in December, they always, always slept beside each other at night, sharing their bed.  
  
  
Harry drops his suitcases, letting them hit the floor with a soft _thunk_ , and then he’s gathering Louis up in his arms, resting his cheek against his hair. “It’s gonna feel weird sleeping without you.”  
  
  
Louis swallows hard, trying like hell to ignore the anxious part of his brain that wants to think about things like engine failure and plane crashes, a news headline saying _there were no survivors_. Because Harry’s going to come back—he has to. “How long will you be gone for?”  
  
  
“I’ll be home Tuesday afternoon at the latest.”  
  
  
Louis nods, tightening his arms around him.  
  
  
Harry kisses his head, “m’sorry. I know this all came about so fast…You gonna be alright while I’m gone?”  
  
  
Louis can’t help but smile. Secretly, he adores when Harry fusses over him like this. “It’s only five days,” he whispers, “I think I’ll manage.”  
  
  
Harry puts on a pout, ducking his head to nuzzle at Louis’s neck, “hmph, you could at least pretend like you’ll miss me.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, stroking his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I already miss you.”  
  
  
Outside, a rush of wind presses against the wooden frame of the door, the foyer quiet except for their breathing. They don’t leave so much as a centimeter of space between them, their fingertips turned inward and clinging, mouths held shut when they’re not sneaking in a last few kisses, unsure of how to say goodbye. It’s only five days.  
  
  
Eventually, Harry sighs, heavy and reluctant, thumbing at Louis’s waist before his hand tightens around his hip. “I shouldn’t be leaving you like this—you’re pregnant.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, hidden against Harry’s curls. “I’m eleven weeks, H. You won’t be missing much except for my heartburn and naptimes.”  
  
  
“Still feel bad,” Harry shrugs, nosing behind his ear, “…are you sure you don’t mind?”  
  
  
Louis nods. He knows Harry would stay if he asked him to. All it would take is two words, _don’t go_ , and Harry would send the cab away, unpack his suitcases, carry Louis back up the stairs to their bed. But Louis couldn’t possibly be that selfish. “I’m sure,” he whispers.  
  
  
A car horn sounds off from outside, and Harry sighs again, hugging Louis tighter. “Alright, baby, I gotta go. It’s an eight-hour flight and there might be a delay because of the rain, but I’ll text you as soon as I land. You’ll probably be asleep by then, though. I’ll be five hours behind with the time difference.”  
  
  
Louis’s fist clenches in his shirt. “Call just in case? You can wake me up, I don’t care.”  
  
  
“Of course,” Harry nods, and then he kneels down to the floor, holding Louis at the hips while he presses kisses to his tummy over his shirt. “Bye-bye, little duck,” he coos, his voice soft. “Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip on a grin, his heart ready to burst open at the sight of Harry whispering to his belly. Then he straightens back up and pulls Louis into one last hug, kissing him long and slow and deep, cradling his face in his hands. “Bye, baby. I love you.”  
  
  
“I love you,” Louis murmurs back.  
  
  
And then Harry disappears in a gloom of drizzled rain, tucking the door closed behind him.  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s a slow next few days.  
  
  
When he isn’t sleeping, Louis busies himself with Netflix, tidies both the bedroom and the nursery, catches up on Game of Thrones. He flicks through another baby book, calls his mum. She’s the only other person who knows, so far. He makes an attempt at some pregnancy yoga he finds on YouTube, and quickly gives up when Liam and Zayn return from the grocery store with a half-pint of mint chocolate chip. He chose some top-notch friends, to be honest. They didn’t even know he was craving it.  
  
  
Embarrassingly, something else comes up. Another craving—no, another _symptom_ …the whole ‘increase in sex drive’ one.  
  
  
The thing is, he keeps getting hard…a lot. Turned on for seemingly no reason at random times throughout the day (and especially at night). And it’s _rather_ inconvenient when Harry is some three thousand miles away, with an ocean and airport terminals and baggage claim separating both their bodies, and any chance of Louis having an orgasm sometime in the next three days.  
  
  
At first, he ignores it. Throws on a loose pair of trackies in the morning before going about his day, careful not to let his mind drift too far away from him. He can handle this. It’s not like he’s some insatiable sex fiend for god’s sake, and really, it’s not even _that_ big of a deal…That is, until he’s being pinned to the mattress, held down and fucked in slow, deep, _magnificent_ pulls…before realising it’s only a dream. He wakes to find himself grinding helplessly against a pillow before being yanked back into consciousness, panting a bit, his hips stilling. And then he groans. He was _so close_ —denied at the very last second, his cock left swollen inside his briefs with the worst kind of morning wood.  
  
  
Somehow, he didn’t anticipate this. He’s used to…well, having certain needs taken care of on a fairly regular basis. He’s used to _Harry_. And even when he’s made to wait for it – teased with promises of ‘ _not now, baby, later_ ,’ and ‘ _when I get home from work…_ ’ – the wait usually never lasts more than just a few hours. Louis can handle that. He can be _good_. Harry’s taught him what he gets when he’s patient. But he hasn’t yet figured out just what to do when Harry suddenly disappears for five days, and he’s left lying alone in their bed, and he’s pregnant, and lonely, and needy, and fucking _horny_ , and… _ugh_.  
  
  
With a mournful glance at the other side of the bed, he rolls over onto his back, kicking the sheets away. Looking down, he can see his dick pushing up at the front of his briefs, so sadly hopeful, and he tries not to think of how Harry would probably mouth at him over the cotton if he were here, how nice that would feel. He winces as he adjusts himself, and considers his limited options.  
  
  
Harry didn’t give him permission to touch. That much is certain. And Louis can’t even call him to _ask_ for permission, because it’s currently five o’clock in the morning in New York City and Harry is definitely sleeping, his alarm clock set for an early morning meeting. So…probably a bad time to wake him up and ask if Louis is allowed to come. Priorities, and all of that.  
  
  
But then his cock gives another twitch, throbbing dully at the lack of touch, and Louis buries his face in his hands with another groan. Christ, this pregnancy is really throwing his body or his hormones or whatever the hell it is for a loop. He feels like he’s been doused in a vat of some pretty excruciating sexual frustration. It’s just…he just wants to be touched. Bad. Something, anything. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he wants, but Harry always figures it out. Harry’s always so perceptive, often knowing without so much as a word whether Louis needs it gentle or rough – faster, harder, or slowed down enough that he’s kept on the edge for hours, whether he wants to be held close and adored, or pinned down and spanked and used – whatever he wants, whatever it is, Harry _always_ makes it better.  
  
  
But Harry isn’t here.  
  
  
Quite alone now, Louis smooths his hand down over his belly, trails his fingertips along the heated skin of his inner thigh, testing the sensation. It feels like foreplay. He hasn’t touched himself in ages, not since Harry asked him to one night several weeks ago. He wanted to _watch_. Louis’s skin was on fire the whole time, but he can still remember the way Harry looked at him, his eyes dark with arousal, murmuring soft little praises while Louis shyly tugged on his cock. “You’re so perfect,” Harry had whispered. “Touching yourself like this. Show me how you come.”  
  
  
Louis’s dick gives another twinge at the thought. He drags his hand back up, shivering a bit when his knuckles brush against his balls, held tight inside his briefs…He _could_ just get himself off. It isn’t totally bad, right? True, he hasn’t been given permission, but just as long as he tells Harry about it later, he’s bound to understand. After all, it’s _his_ fault for getting Louis pregnant and then leaving him all alone like this. What else would he expect him to do?  
  
  
With his mind made up, Louis bites his lip and reaches for his phone, glancing up to double-check that the bedroom door is closed. He quickly finds some porn on Google, keeping the volume low and blushing to himself the entire time. It always feels so shameful.  
  
  
It’s your standard D/S stuff, and while the moans and slaps of skin are somewhat stimulating, the dom is just a little too cold and distant with his sub, spanking him a bit _too_ rough, while offering little to no affection—nothing at all like Harry. He doesn’t pet his hair or rub at his hips and thighs while they fuck, doesn’t tell him how good he’s being, or kiss him behind the ear when he starts whimpering for more. Louis makes a valiant effort to get into it, but in the end, the video just doesn’t do it for him. It only leaves him pining for Harry more than ever.  
  
  
He eventually gives up and exits out of the tab, tossing his phone away. Admittedly, he’s a little embarrassed. Don’t most people get off to porn? What the hell is the matter with him? It used to do the trick loads of times back in the day when he’d shut himself up in his dorm room, quick to get off before Zayn returned from his morning class. But that was before he knew what it was like to be properly fucked, before he knew he wanted to call someone _Daddy_ , before he knew Harry. Now nothing else seems like enough.  
  
  
His face hot and his cock still hard, Louis sinks back against the pillow, closing his eyes instead. He lets his thoughts go straight to that place, full of sight, touch, and sound—all of the things that make his blood pulse between his legs, not even trying to resist it anymore. He slips his hand back down to cup his dick, still a little wet from the lube he dug out of the nightstand to make the glide easier. He curls his fingers, rubbing gently up and down, and then he’s there in his mind. And somehow, it’s so much better than the porn. It’s _them_ —Harry holding him, mouthing at his neck and shoving his thighs apart, all hard and eager and wanting to fuck. He pulls him down onto his lap and then he’s pushing in deep, his hips snapping up, making Louis whine for it, so terribly needy.  
  
  
“Daddy,” he whispers into thin air, just a breath, thinking of how Harry would whisper back to him if he were here, call him _baby_ while he tells him how good he’s making his cock feel. Louis moans at that, hushed and quiet, getting into it.  
  
  
He pumps his hand over his dick, his fingers slipping messily around the head where he’s leaking, and then he arches his back with a gasp, sensitive, wishing more than anything he could have something firm against his prostate. He could probably use his fingers, but by now he’s too close to stop, and besides, he’s only tried fingering himself once before and he wasn’t very good at it. That was the night they spent at that one hotel, when he touched himself without permission and Harry found out and he _still_ let Louis ride his cock all night. He bites his lip at the thought, remembering how he straddled Harry’s lap, how _full_ he felt when he sank down on him for the first time, impaled by something so long and thick and good, stretching him in the best possible way. He remembers Harry’s soft groans when he started to move, letting Louis fuck himself on his cock, the look of complete bliss that came over Harry’s face...That’s what finally sends him over the edge. He tugs his hand up over the tip and then he’s coming in fast spurts, his lips pressed tight together to hold in any sounds.  
  
  
His wrist almost numb, Louis practically dissolves into the pillow, panting and guilty as can be, his belly splattered with his own come. He wipes himself off with a tissue and rolls over, only vaguely satisfied. And he thinks of how Harry might have actually done it – he might have actually ruined Louis, rendered him incapable of wanting anyone else… _anything_ else.  
  
  
And how terribly smug he would be if he knew.  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
By the third day, Louis figures he should probably get out of bed and find something more productive to do—surely it’s not normal for someone to sleep this much? But it’s just so _easy_ to drift off when there’s a constant stream of rainfall outside his window, pattering gently on the rooftop and leaving the house dark and cool and comfortable, the perfect atmosphere for afternoon naps.  
  
  
It isn’t until late Saturday that the storm finally lets up, and on Sunday morning, Louis wakes to a small knock on his bedroom door. “Come in,” he croaks out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
  
It’s Zayn. He crosses the floor with a short wave of his hand, his hair wet like he’s just had a shower. He sits down on the edge of the bed, and Louis catches a whiff of spicy cologne and spearmint that reminds him of when they shared a dorm room together. “Morning, Lou.”  
  
  
Louis squints at the time on his phone. “Morning,” he yawns, “what’s up?”  
  
  
Zayn scratches at the stubble ghosting his jawline, looking thoughtful. “Not much, just – there’s an art festival going on downtown, today. Me and Li are gonna head out in about an hour if you wanna come. I know it’s not really your scene but,” he shrugs, “thought you might like to get out of the house for a bit, since Harry’s not here and all.”  
  
  
Louis mulls that over for a moment, still rubbing at his eyes and squinting against the light. It doesn’t take long at all for him to decide to go. Zayn’s right, art may not be his thing, but at least it will give him something to do that doesn’t involve dozing off in between marathons of crap reality TV, or lying around the house missing Harry. He knows he needs to get up, get some fresh air and exercise. After all, he isn’t just looking after himself anymore. He stifles a yawn with his hand and shrugs, “sure, thanks.”  
  
  
Zayn just nods, looking curiously around the room. It’s rare for him to come in here. He makes a soft sound when his eyes land on the bedside table, where Louis’s printed-out ultrasound is sat on top of a stack of baby books. “What’s this?” he asks, reaching for it.  
  
  
_Shit._ Louis bites his lip, kicking himself for forgetting to put that back in the drawer last night, when he had whispered to the blurry picture before bed. He and Harry planned on keeping things a secret for a little bit longer but there’s just no hiding it now, not with his name clearly printed across the top. Although, truthfully, Louis is a little excited to finally be able to tell someone else.  
  
  
Zayn stares down at the fuzzy black-and-white photo, realisation dawning on his face. And then he looks back at Louis with a soft smile, “…really?”  
  
  
Louis nods, feeling proud. “Eleven weeks.”  
  
  
“Oh, man…” Zayn grins, shaking his head. “I _knew_ it. Is that why you’ve been sleeping so much?”  
  
  
Louis drops back against the pillow with a groan. “You have no idea. It’s exhausting.”  
  
  
“Well, ‘m happy for you, babes,” Zayn murmurs, “I know it wasn’t exactly easy.”  
  
  
Louis nods, pensively. “It took a little longer than I thought it would but…finally got there in the end.”  
  
  
Zayn pats him on the knee and then turns back to the sonogram, his eyes fond. “So does Harry know?”  
  
  
Louis snorts. “Oh, he knows, alright.”  
  
  
Zayn’s brow arches, “why’d you say it like that?”  
  
  
Louis falters. “Er – no reason.”  
  
  
Zayn shakes his head with a grin, turning to face him. “Oh, come on. You can tell me.”  
  
  
Louis looks away, his face heating up a bit. “Okay…erm, well, it’s – how should I say this? Harry…I think it – I think he, like…”  
  
  
“…Has a pregnancy kink?” Zayn offers.  
  
  
Louis closes his eyes and slowly nods in confirmation, just once.  
  
  
Zayn’s head drops back on a laugh. “Jesus,” he mutters, “Guess that explains why lately we’ve been able to hear you two fucking from the other side of the house.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip at that, a definite blush dusting his cheeks now. He shakes his head to clear it, looking back at Zayn. “Don’t ever tell him I told you that.”  
  
  
Zayn holds up his hands in surrender, still fighting back a grin. “Your secret’s safe with me.”  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
An hour later, Louis sits slouched in the cramped backseat of Liam’s Porsche, his eyes unfocused, staring out the window while the bass of _Hotline Bling_ hums through the speakers. Up front, Liam and Zayn sing along, pointing to each other as they alternate verses. They know every word by heart, using the center console as a drum.  
  
  
Louis tries not to roll his eyes at how sappy and perfect they are together, his loneliness turning him bitter. He isn’t used to being the third-wheel. He’s used to having an arm curled around his waist, a hand on his thigh, and lots of kisses and the occasional bad joke pressed to his hair. And it probably doesn’t help that he’s been feeling a bit clingier than usual lately. Stupid hormones. He’s embarrassed of his past self for thinking they were just a myth.  
  
  
He’s just about to return to glaring moodily out the window when his phone buzzes in his pocket with a text. And in an instant, his moodiness is swapped out with a smile, before he even checks to see who sent it. Harry always has good timing, even with a five-hour difference.  
  
  
_‘Good morning, baby.’  
  
_  
It’s ridiculous how Louis still gets butterflies over this kind of stuff. He taps out a reply, his eyes crinkling.  
  
  
_‘hi Daddy’_  
  
  
He waits, watching as three little dots appear on the screen, indicating that Harry is typing something back. And then another text bubble appears,  
  
  
_‘How are you feeling? Still tired? I miss you.’  
_  
  
Louis smiles sadly. _‘miss youu :(_ _feeling a little better today though. I’m on my way to some art festival with li and zayn.’  
  
  
‘Well I’m happy you’re getting out of the house for a bit :),’ Harry_ sends back. _‘Just wish I could be there with you.’  
  
  
_ Louis smiles, trying to imagine Harry’s long limbs in such a small space. _‘not sure there’s enough room for the both of us here in the back of liam’s porsche.’  
_  
  
Harry replies, _‘There will be when I get you on my lap.’_  
  
  
Louis actually flushes. He misses it all _so_ much. He misses being _baby_ for Harry.  
  
  
_‘Daddy_.’  
  
  
_‘Yes, baby?’  
  
  
‘what are you doing?’  
  
  
‘I’m at the hotel, haven’t gotten out of bed yet.’  
  
  
_ Louis is about to say something else but stops when his phone pings again.  
  
  
_‘I woke up hard, if I’m honest._ ’  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, grinning in spite of himself. _‘A spontaneous erection?’_  
  
  
Harry’s reply comes through seconds later, ‘ _Must have been a good dream, yeah? ;)’  
  
  
_ Louis bites his lip, glancing up from his phone. In the front seat, Liam and Zayn are both staring straight ahead, their eyes on the road and their heads bobbing slightly with the music. And Louis quickly taps out another reply, feeling a bit mischievous.  
  
  
_‘can I see?’  
  
  
_ It takes a few minutes to get a response, the screen idling out to black. Louis fidgets the whole time while he waits, knowing Harry is taking his time on purpose just to tease him. When his phone finally buzzes again, he eagerly opens up the text, and sure enough, he’s been sent a photo.  
  
  
It’s of Harry, of course. Or at least, the lower half of Harry’s body, as if he rested the phone on his chest when he took it. He’s laid out on some luxury hotel bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him, slightly bent at the knees, the sheets kicked down by his feet. Louis can see the edge of butterfly wings, the laurels fanning out over his hips, the neat line of his pubic hair trailing down, and lots and lots of skin, interrupted only by a pair of white boxer-briefs. His dick is shaped-out against the material, the cotton pulled tight around it while the tip curves up and peeks out from his waistband, just enough to tease. Harry’s got a hand on the shaft, cupping himself loosely.  
  
  
A sudden pang of want rushes straight to Louis’s groin and he miserably shifts in his seat.  
  
  
_‘Daddy :(_ ’  
  
_  
‘What is it, baby?’_ Harry asks, and Louis can clearly picture him typing with one hand, touching his cock with the other, rubbing his thumb over the slit to get himself wet.  
  
  
Louis chews on his lip, still staring longingly at the photo, at everything he’s been missing lately—that body he knows and adores so very much. His gaze keeps dropping guiltily to Harry’s cock, all nice and fattened-up in his briefs, and he’s torn between a sudden desire to crawl up between Harry’s legs and grind, or wrap his lips around the tip and – Jesus, how did he get this turned on already? He pouts a bit even though Harry isn’t around to see it, typing back.  
  
  
_‘want it so much :( :(’  
  
  
‘I know, baby.’ _ Harry replies. _’I’m thinking about all the things I wanna do to you while I get myself off.’  
  
  
_ And Louis really shouldn’t ask – he _knows_ he shouldn’t. He should just leave the conversation at that, because the last thing he needs is to get hard right now in the backseat of Liam’s car with literally zero chance of relief. He can already feel the crotch of his jeans beginning to tighten up. The problem is, his impulse control isn’t exactly the best when it comes to Harry, and he’s _curious_. Hopelessly so.  
  
  
He glances up from his phone to check that the others don’t suspect and then thumbs out another reply, his curiosity getting the best of him once again.  
  
  
_‘like what?’  
  
  
_ He sets his phone face down, digging his fingernails into his thighs in attempts to keep himself still, but he can’t stop fidgeting. Somewhere in the world – on an entirely different continent even – Harry is _wanking_ , and all Louis can do is sit quietly and wait for his reply.  
  
  
When another message pings through, Louis opens it with fumbling hands, swiping at the lock screen. He nearly drops his phone when he reads Harry’s text.  
  
  
‘ _I wanna eat you out.’  
  
  
_ Louis very nearly whimpers, watching those three dots appear once again as Harry keeps going, keeps typing, keeps teasing him. And when his text comes through, Louis can almost _hear_ his voice, murmuring low into his ear,  
  
  
_‘Wanna spend hours between your legs, fuck you nice and slow with my tongue. Get my face all wet.’  
  
_  
Louis squirms in his seat, suddenly flooded with mental images of Harry wrapped up in his thighs, pushing them apart, his eyes closed and his mouth wet and nuzzling in close, slowly lapping at him, groaning to himself as his tongue nudges in and out. Louis replies with a single emoji, the one that looks like it’s crying out in anguish, because that’s exactly how he feels right now.  
  
_  
‘Is that okay?’_ Harry replies, _‘Would you let me?’  
  
  
_ Louis rests his forehead against the cold glass of the window in attempts to cool himself down. His eyes drop closed and he can see it all happening – can see himself lying on his tummy while Harry kneels between his legs, both hands cupping his bottom, holding him open while he licks and sucks all over his tiny pink hole, making wet, messy sounds.  
  
  
Louis feels weak with how much he wants it, fumbling blindly for his phone and typing back a simple _please_.  
  
  
_‘Are you sure?’_ Harry replies. _‘I won’t be able to stop, baby. Want to keep you coming all over yourself.’  
  
  
_ Louis slumps back against his seat, feeling way too hot. It’s amazing that the windows haven’t fogged up. He’s getting hard again. There’s just no stopping it—not now that Harry’s mentioned doing _that_ to him. He knows how much Louis likes it. And all Louis can do is sit back and stare down at his lap, helpless, as yet another text comes through,  
  
  
_‘I can still remember how you taste, all the little sounds you make when I go down on you, kissing all over your pretty little hole until you’re begging for my tongue. I don’t even think you realise how much you’re gagging for it until I’m licking you just right, and then your hips start pushing down and you’re grinding on my mouth, moaning my name and being so fucking naughty. And I can’t even spank you ‘cause you’ll like it too much._ ’  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, holds back a whine. He misses getting spanked. His cock is trapped at the front of his jeans, pressing hard up against his zipper now, and he makes sure the others aren’t looking before squeezing his thighs together in short, rhythmic little pulses, rubbing back and forth a bit, desperate for some kind of friction, something to the lull the pulse and ache. Harry is thinking about him while he jerks off – palming himself to the thought of eating Louis out, and Louis can’t believe how much of a turn on that is. Lately he’s been getting hard for no reason, but now he has a perfectly _good_ reason and – _fuck_. He squeezes his thighs together again and actually feels a bit of wetness dribble out from the tip of his prick, just as his phone buzzes in his lap again.  
  
  
_‘See how much I want you?’_ Harry asks, and attached underneath is another photo. This time, his briefs have now been pushed down over his hips, his cock standing at full attention between his legs, _massive_ and blushing a deep red, all slicked up with lube and leaking precome. And Louis just wants and wants and _wants_. So fucking much. He stares at the picture for a while, trying to decide what he wants the most. He blushes to himself as he sends back, _‘would you let me sit on it?’_  
  
  
There’s a delayed, rather deliberate pause, before Harry replies, _‘I think you can ask nicer than that.’_  
  
  
Louis shifts in his seat, trying like mad to keep quiet, chewing at his lip. _‘please Daddy, need it :(‘  
  
  
‘Yeah?’ _ Harry asks. _‘Am I making you hard, baby? Even over the phone?’  
  
  
‘you know you are :(‘_ Louis sends back, his face hot from all the teasing. _  
  
  
‘Tell me what you need, then,’ _ Harry prompts. _  
  
  
_ Louis pinches his thighs together, glancing up to make sure no one’s looking, like he could be caught at any second. _‘Need your cock,’_ he replies, thinking of how much easier it is to type these things rather than say them out loud, _‘please I’m so hard, wanna feel you.’  
_  
  
_‘Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you? Take my cock ‘til your bottom’s all sore and used?’  
  
  
_ Louis bites down hard on his knuckle, his eyes clenched shut. He really doesn’t think he’ll survive much more of this. He sends back a row of that same anguished emoji, because he can’t keep this up—a moment longer and Liam and Zayn will notice and take the piss out of him for the rest of the day, or _worse_ , he’ll come in pants just from Harry talking dirty in a few short texts.  
  
  
But god, what he wouldn’t give to _come_ right now, to have that dull throb between his thighs give way to a tingly, mind-numbing goodness, to shiver and cry and make a mess and have Harry here making it all happen, murmuring into his hair while he touches his cock, rubbing him through his orgasm until Louis is limp and pink and sensitive. He picks up his phone again with a pout.  
  
  
_‘wanna come :(‘_  
_  
  
‘I know you do,’ _ Harry replies. _‘But you can wait, yeah? Be a good boy?’  
_  
  
Louis sends back a _yes_ , but he bites his lip, feeling guilty. He hasn’t told Harry that he touched without permission yet.  
  
  
His guilt doesn’t last very long, however. It’s been over a minute since Harry’s sent another message, and Louis knows it’s because he’s busy slamming his fist over his cock, all groaning and close and about to come, and that is just so unbelievably _unfair_. He snatches up his phone, typing fast.  
  
  
‘ _can’t believe you’ve got me hard like this when I’m with the lads.’  
  
  
_ Almost immediately, his phone buzzes, and Louis smirks to himself at how quickly _that_ got Harry’s attention.  
  
  
_‘Have they noticed?’_  
  
  
_‘not yet…’  
  
  
‘Louis._ ’  
  
  
Louis shivers. He can just hear Harry saying his name like that, like a warning, a command for him to be good. He types back, _‘I’ll try not to let them see.’  
  
  
‘You’ll try?’  
  
  
_ Louis bites his lip. He wonders if Harry is fucking his hand even harder now, just at the thought of Louis being turned on like this when other guys are around, without Harry here to mark his territory.  
  
  
_‘well it’s not exactly easy to hide things in these jeans_ ,’ Louis types back.  
  
  
‘ _You know I don’t like that, Louis_.’  
  
  
Louis blushes. Those words are the closest thing he can get to a spanking for now.  
  
  
_‘you’re lucky I’ve brought my jumper :)’  
  
  
‘Good,’ _ Harry replies. _‘Either tug it down low or keep it wrapped around your waist. I don’t want anyone else to see you like that. Just me, yeah?’  
  
  
_ Louis smiles, pleased with himself. He tugs obediently at his jumper, trying to ignore the ache between his thighs. But it’s a bit easier to do now that Harry’s told him to be good. He thinks he was born to submit to him. He picks up his phone again, turning a bit pink at the next thing he types,  
  
  
_‘have you come yet, Daddy?’_  
  
  
Harry’s text pings through about thirty seconds later. ‘ _Have now that you called me Daddy ;)’_  
  
  
Louis shakes his head with a frown, _‘not fair.’  
  
  
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ _ Harry replies _. ‘I’ll make it up to you when I get home.’  
  
  
‘you promise?’  
  
  
‘I promise :) Have to shower now, though. I’ve made a mess. Text you in a bit xx’  
  
  
_ And Louis sends back a row of x’s, just as Liam pulls the car off the main road and parks.  
  
  
  
_  
_ xXx  
  
  
  
_  
_ For the first time in weeks there was sunlight, if only just a ghost of it, falling in slants from behind faint outlines of clouds, warming up the grey. It was convenient, all things considered. The festival was held outside, in a park next to the convention center.  
  
  
A concrete sidewalk wound through the trees, looping around a small ferry pond at the middle before branching out into different paths, like a spider’s web. Scattered along the path’s edge were the art displays: pencil sketches and photograph murals, charcoal drawings and oil paintings, sculptures made from clay. In between each display were tables that the artists set up to sell their work, while others sat on rickety chairs with their sketchbooks and paint easels out, giving demonstrations, or taking requests.  
  
  
Every few rows, they passed wine-tasting booths, with trays of fruit and cheese sliced right off the block, different blends of whites and reds passed out in paper cups. Louis nibbled at some aged Gouda on a toothpick and gave his wine to Zayn without tempting a single sip, his hand drifting subconsciously to his belly.  
_  
  
_ They made their way down the different paths with the rest of the festivalgoers, pausing at each display. Zayn was completely enthralled, pointing out certain pieces and murmuring under his breath about their composition while Liam nodded along, asking questions. Zayn could make off-white wallpaper seem like the most fascinating thing in the world to Liam. Louis followed a step behind, only half-interested, but happy to be out in the fresh air for once, shaded by an overhanging canopy of trees.  
  
  
It wasn’t until they came to a stop at a huge display of watercolour paintings that something caught his eye. Near the top corner was a picture of hot air balloons suspended in the wind, floating delicately with the clouds, pastel streamers trailing from each wicker basket. It was soft and pretty and Louis pulled his wallet from his back pocket without a second thought, moving across the path to the artist’s table on the left. He found a woman there, wearing a long patterned dress with her hair braided into plaits. She looked up at him with a smile and he pointed to the painting of the hot air balloons, thinking of what a perfect addition it would be for the nursery.  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
They make it all the way to the ferry pond in the center of the park before Louis starts feeling tired, the midday fatigue catching up to him once again. He could really use a bench to rest on for a bit. Not to mention, he’s getting hungry, all of the cheese and grape samples doing little to fill him up.  
  
  
He splits up from Zayn and Liam then, following a separate path that winds towards the right, leading to the convention center. There’s a food court set up inside and Louis’s nose picks up the smell of chicken kabobs the second he walks through the double-doors. Without even bothering to browse through the other options, he marches straight to the kabob cart, ordering a few skewers and basket of baked chips on the side.  
  
  
The food court is crowded, cluttered with small, rounded picnic tables, their seats mostly full. Louis scans the room for an empty table but comes up with nothing, so he settles instead for the next best thing: a table in the corner with all of its chairs vacant except for one. The guy occupying it has his back to Louis, his head bowed over the table, like he’s concentrating on something. Louis feels bad disturbing him so he approaches slowly, moving towards the other side of the table. “Erm, sorry,” he clears his throat, “is it alright if I sit here?”  
  
  
The guy glances up at him with a shrug. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” Louis mutters, setting down his tray. He pulls out one of the orange plastic chairs and takes a seat, exhaling heavily when he props his feet up on the table leg. It’s a relief to sit. His heels were starting to ache from all of that walking. He thinks he’s grown far too accustomed to laying in bed these past few days, but at least the doctor said it was okay.  
  
  
It’s loud in the food court and Louis listens in on surrounding conversations, picking up bits and pieces of broken words while he munches on chips and waits for his kebabs to cool. Across the table, the guy keeps his head bowed, his brow knitted tight together as he works. He’s drawing something.  
  
  
Even without the sketchbook and coloured pens that are sprawled out on the table around him, Louis probably could have guessed that this guy is an artist. His hair is dyed white-blond like Billy Idol’s, shaved down on both sides and then long at the top, streaked here and there with turquoise. His left eyebrow is pierced with a thin, silver hoop, while his arms are absolutely brimming with tattoos so interwoven it’s impossible to make out the skin, each piece blending seamlessly together to form two perfect sleeves.  
  
  
Louis has a bite of chicken, watching as the guy’s hand flits across paper, sketching intricate lines and patterns with an ink pen, as easy as blinking. He’s rather brazen with it – one false move and it could all be ruined by the perils of permanent ink, but he doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate. It’s incredible, really. Louis can barely manage to draw a straight line with a ruler.  
  
  
“Wow,” Louis mutters. “That’s really cool.”  
  
  
The guy looks up in surprise then, pulled from deep thought, as if he forgot Louis was there. Then he smiles. “Thanks. It’s a commission.”  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow, unfamiliar with any sort of art-talk. “A commission?”  
  
  
The guy nods, and it’s nice that he doesn’t roll his eyes or sneer at the question. “Yeah, it’s like – basically someone requests a certain piece that they’d like, and then they pay me to draw it for them.”  
  
  
“Oh,” Louis nods.  
  
  
The guy shrugs, his mouth turning up in a half-moon smile, self-deprecating. “The life of a poor artist.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, choosing another chip from his basket. He knows all too well what it’s like to be poor. “Better to be poor with a job that you actually like, though.”  
  
  
The guy nods and stares down at his drawing, clearly passionate about it. “Very true.”  
  
  
“What happens if they ask for something you don’t want to draw?”  
  
  
“Ehh,” the guy laments, considering the question. “I mean, you can always say _no_. You have to come to a proper agreement, like. Some people put out lists of their terms – things they do and don’t feel comfortable creating, things like that.” He pauses, clicking his pen a few times. “But I always keep my portfolio around so people can look through it first, get a feel for my style, and what I’m interested in. Which is comics, mostly.”  
  
  
Louis sips at his drink. “Like _The Avengers_?”  
  
  
He nods. “Yup. Although I’m more of a DC guy, myself.”  
  
  
Fortunately, Louis’s heard Zayn and Liam talk about comics enough that he doesn’t have to ask what that means. He dips a bit of chicken into the little sauce cup the lady at the kabob cart gave to him and takes another bite, falling quiet so the artist can work in peace.  
  
  
He doesn’t seem to mind though, tilting his pen to the side. “I’m Nate, by the way,” he says, not looking up as he shades in some finishing touches.  
  
  
Louis peels a bit of tomato from the end of his skewer. “Louis.”  
  
  
“You enjoying the festival, then?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Had never been to one before but my friend Zayn is really into art, so I sort of tagged along.”  
  
  
“It’s a good atmosphere,” Nate nods.  
  
  
“The food isn’t bad, either,” Louis says, taking another bite.  
  
  
Nate smiles, glancing up at Louis’s tray. “I was eyeing that kebab cart earlier but I can’t eat while I draw. Too many bad experiences with chicken grease.” He looks over his work one last time before he signs his name in the bottom right corner, blowing at the ink until it dries. Then he turns it around so that it’s facing Louis. “Think they’ll like it?”  
  
  
Louis’s eyes travel across the drawing, at all the lines connected together in glossy black ink. “It’s great,” he says, nodding earnestly. “Er, I’m not sure who that character is, though, so it might actually be crap.”  
  
  
Nate laughs, and it’s the first time his tongue piercing becomes visible, a silver stud glinting in the light. “His name is Chun Woo. He’s from a series called _The Breaker_. It’s a bit of an underground thing.”  
  
  
Louis nods, marveling at the amount of detail on the page. “Did you have to, like… _learn_ how to draw like that?”  
  
  
Nate smirks, not unkindly. “Yeah, despite popular belief, you’re not actually born with it. Well, I suppose maybe some people are but, it took lots of practice, in my case.” He scribbles a quick note into his sketchbook and then drops his pen, rolling his shoulders back against the hard-plastic chair. And then he leans forward again. “Actually started out wanting to be a tattoo artist. I drew most of these myself,” he says, laying his arms out across the table to reveal even more flowing lines of ink, twisted patterns and colours cluttering his very pale skin. Louis spots a jellyfish, a backwards clock, a crystal ball with a large crack in the glass. “How many do you have?” he wonders.  
  
  
Nate hums in thought, slowly turning his forearms from side to side. A vein bulges near the crook of his elbow, while a black and emerald serpent trails beside it. “Think about sixty maybe? Lost track somewhere along the way.” His phone buzzes on the table then, the screen lighting up with an alarm clock. “Shit,” he mutters, silencing the ring. “I’ve got to be getting this back, now,” he says, tapping at the commission before shoving his art supplies into an old rucksack. “It was nice meeting you.”  
  
  
Louis nods, sipping at his drink, “nice meeting you as well.”  
  
  
Nate stands up from the table then, and it’s surprising how tall he is when he’s not hunched over a drawing. He walks away, almost making it to the next table before he slows to a stop. He stands with his back to Louis for a moment, as if he’s bracing himself for his next move. And then he turns back around, looking nervous, his hand clenching at his side.  
  
  
Slowly, Nate retraces his steps and drops a bit of folded paper onto the table in front of Louis. “Sorry,” he murmurs, smiling. “Couldn’t help it.” And then he quickly turns again, rushing out of the double-doors of the food court.  
  
  
Louis sits frozen in his chair, taken aback. He stares down at the folded up piece of paper, torn from Nate’s sketchbook. A wave of unease passes over him as he reaches for it, and sure enough, when he unravels the folds he finds a phone number there, written in a neat, jet-black scrawl.  
  
  
He feels bad when he crumples the paper up in his hand, dropping it onto the pile of trash on his food tray. After all, Nate seemed like a nice guy, and Louis hopes he didn’t accidentally lead him on or anything. It can be easy to forget sometimes that there’s still loads of single people out there looking for a match, that not everyone was lucky enough to find their soulmate at twenty years old the way that he did. He drops his forehead onto the table with a groan.  
  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
  
Louis jumps, startled, letting out an embarrassing squeak.  
  
  
Zayn plops down in the chair beside him, raising his brow. “You alright?”  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah, m’fine,” Louis mutters, shaking his head. He slowly sits up in his chair, paranoid, looking around to make sure Nate isn’t still lingering somewhere nearby. “Just – I think I’ve just been chatted up, is all.”  
  
  
Zayn grins. “Yeah?”  
  
  
Louis nods, pointing to the crumpled-up piece of paper.  
  
  
Zayn reaches for it, flattening it back out. He shakes his head, making a sad sound. “Ah, man. Poor bloke.” He tosses it back onto the tray. “You gonna tell Harry?”  
  
  
“Tell Harry what?” Liam arrives then, carrying two trays in his arms and setting one down in front of Zayn.  
  
  
Zayn picks up his fork. “Some guy gave Lou his phone number.”  
  
  
Louis glares at him. “Thanks, Zayn. Shall I fetch you a megaphone so you can inform the rest of the festivalgoers?”  
  
  
Zayn looks at him incredulously, cocking his head, “’s just Liam.”  
  
  
Louis tuts while Zayn turns to Liam with a smirk, nudging him with his elbow. “Would you want me to tell you?”  
  
  
Liam shrugs. “Mmm…I guess. But I mean, if he’s chucking it in the bin anyway it’s not like it’s a big deal.”  
  
  
Louis’s phone buzzes in his pocket then and he groans, marveling once again at the truly _spectacular_ timing of it all. It’s literally as if Harry were listening in by satellite from across the Atlantic – how does he always _know?_ He shifts in his seat and swipes his thumb at the screen, reading the text that’s waiting for him in his inbox.  
  
  
_‘Guess what.’  
  
  
_ Louis hesitates, staring at the rather cryptic message before typing back, _‘what?’  
  
  
_ A minute later, his phone buzzes again with Harry’s reply. _‘The breakfast buffet was all out of strawberry muffins this morning, and the worst part of my day is STILL that I miss you too much.’  
  
  
_ Louis bites down on his lip, feels it splitting irresistibly into a grin as he types back, _‘can’t believe you’ve just compared me to a muffin.’_  
  
  
_‘You’re much sweeter, really,’_ Harry says. _‘Also, I’ve got a surprise for you when I get home.’  
  
  
‘what is it??’  
  
  
‘Not telling :)’  
  
  
_ Louis grumbles to himself, typing back. _‘Fine. Guess I’ll just have to be patient then’  
  
  
‘Guess you will,’ _ Harry replies. _‘I love you, baby :)’  
  
  
‘love youuu :)’  
  
  
  
  
  
_ xXx  
_  
  
  
_  
They don’t leave the festival until late in the afternoon, just as a flurry of dark storm clouds begins to swarm the sky, the rains coming once again. They’re halfway through the drive home when the downpour hits, splattering hard against the windshield, the wipers on full-blast. Louis plugs his headphones in and plays a song, something slow and a little sad, watching the storm through the backseat window.  
  
  
They park the car in the garage and quickly head inside, winding up in the den. Liam puts on a film and stretches out on the big couch in front of the TV, pulling Zayn back against his chest. He spoons him in from behind and plays with his hair, his fingers gentle where they stroke through the dark, silky strands, brushing them back from his forehead. Then he whispers something that makes Zayn laugh and shake his head, smiling to himself as Liam nuzzles at his neck.  
  
  
Watching the two of them together is just another reminder of how lonely Louis is.  
  
  
Maybe he should be used to it by now—it’s been like this all day, and the two days before that. But it hasn’t gotten any easier. He heads over to the loveseat against the opposite wall and curls up alone, cold without Harry pressed to his back, whispering useless movie trivia into his ear, or grinding his hard-on against his arse when he’s in the mood and can’t help it, or snoring when it’s only fifteen minutes in and he’s already fallen asleep. Louis misses being held, misses having someone to hold onto. He misses the comfort, and the closeness.  
  
  
There’s been an ache in his chest ever since Harry left for New York.  
  
  
He wraps his arms around himself for warmth, tucking his hands inside the sleeves of his jumper. He isn’t sure why it’s hitting him so hard now, the loneliness closing in on him like the dark. For the most part, he’s been holding up pretty well on his own these past few days. But now he can’t stop thinking about it, how much he misses Harry.  
  
  
He peers over at the other couch, watches Liam take Zayn’s hand, lifting it up to his mouth to kiss his palm, like little promises pressed into the skin. And Louis just can’t look anymore. He pushes up from the loveseat and forces a yawn, makes an excuse about wanting to turn in early. Not that it matters. They probably want him to leave, so they can finally be alone.  
  
  
He heads up the stairs and down the quiet hall, listening as the rain falls hard against the rooftop. He flicks on the lights and then he’s standing alone in an empty bedroom, everything just as he left it, cold and untouched. He follows the same old routines—brushes his teeth, changes out of his clothes, but it’s not the same without Harry there to nudge his hip at the sink, or make faces at him in the mirror while he flosses, or pick him up and carry him to bed, giggling against his neck.  
  
  
He feels downright pitiful, and sappy, and clingy, but there’s no one around to see him like this so he just lets it all happen, throws himself deep into the feeling, indulging in his own heartache. He’s only slightly ashamed when he marches over to the laundry hamper in the corner and digs through the dirty clothes until he finds a t-shirt Harry wore just before he left for his trip. He slips it over his head and in an instant, he’s surrounded by that _scent_ —Harry’s cologne, his body, the way his skin smells extra strong in the morning, warmed up from sleep.  
  
  
He wishes Harry were here now – Harry _loves_ when Louis wears his clothes. He loves how the t-shirts are always a little too big for him, falling down past his hips and hugging around his bottom. He loves slipping his hands up under the hem to touch his thighs, or rub his soft belly, before lifting it up even more to see what Louis has on underneath.  
  
  
God, it’s quiet. Louis just wants some _attention_. The house has never felt so big, and their bed has never looked so empty. He pushes back the duvet and climbs in, lets his loneliness wash over him like the cold sheets. The ache in his chest must be getting worse. The first few days, it was almost dull enough to ignore, but now he feels it like a physical pain, something open and wounded, something missing.  
  
  
Because he _misses_ Harry. He misses everything about him – the goofy cackle of his laugh and his stupidly endearing two front teeth, the dimple that’s pressed into his left cheek, and every smile, every smirk, every touch of his hand, and then the other, long fingers and strong thighs and love handles and everything attached to them, the time he got drunk and let someone write the word ‘big’ on his big toe in permanent ink, how much he resembles a frog when he’s in deep concentration, how he cried when Bambi’s mother died and treats steering wheels and shampoo bottles like microphones, his sharp wit and his terribly outdated humour, his unbelievable generosity, his kindness. And most of all, however selfishly, Louis misses the way Harry loves him. He misses the forehead kisses and the hugs from behind, the soft murmurs in his hair and the smiles hidden against his cheek, always a solid weight at his side, steady like an anchor, never wavering. The way he holds Louis like he’s precious, like he’s the most important thing in the world. Like he would never once consider, not even for a moment, letting him go.  
  
  
Louis tucks his knees up to his chest, feels a telltale lump rising in his throat. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for Harry’s pillow, curling himself around it, hugging it close, and there’s that smell again, so familiar, even as it’s starting to fade. Tears spring up in his eyes, and he allows a few of them to fall, happy to blame it all on the hormones. It’s embarrassing feeling so needy, as if he’d never been alone before. As if he hadn’t spent the first two decades of his life just like this, lying alone in bed at night, wishing to be held by some far-off stranger, someone he couldn’t even put a face to back then. But the truth is, he can’t remember what life was like before Harry. All he knows is that nothing is quite the same without him. He never wants to go back.  
  
  
He fishes for his phone in the sheets, stares at the blank screen for a while, biting his lip. He figures he could probably just text him. A single sad-faced emoji would have his phone ringing in seconds, Harry’s worried voice on the line, but…god, it hasn’t even been an hour since they last spoke, and he’s in the middle of preparing for a _charity gala_ right now and he _really_ doesn’t need to be bothered with Louis’s stupid clinginess, getting all emotional over nothing.  
  
  
So he rolls over and waits for sleep to take him, holding onto the pillow extra tight.  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx

  
  
  
  
It’s nearly two a.m. when Louis wakes again, his phone pinging beside the pillow, two notes, like the soft tap of piano keys. He blinks at the screen, sees the text from Harry.  
  
  
_‘Hey, love. You awake?’_  
  
  
Louis replies with a simple _yes_ , and moments later, his phone starts to ring. He presses the green connect button with a sort of desperate urgency, bringing it to his ear. “Hi,” he whispers, breathless and a little shy, so excited to talk to Harry again he almost doesn’t know what to say.  
  
  
“Hi, baby,” Harry says, his voice a soft murmur through the phone that already has Louis biting at his lip.  
  
  
“Hi,” Louis says again, and then he yawns, sleepy but smiling.  
  
  
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Harry worries. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”  
  
  
“No, no – wanna talk to you,” Louis says, suppressing another yawn. “Erm, unless you’re going to bed?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head with a small chuckle. “It’s not even nine p.m., love. My schedule is clear.” The heels of his boots click-clack against tile as he crosses the hotel lobby to the elevator bank. “Or at least it would be, if I didn’t have every intention of staying on this phone with you until you’ve grown horrendously bored and fallen back asleep.”  
  
  
Louis hums happily, “good. What are you doing?”  
  
  
Harry steps into an empty lift, pressing the 6th floor button. “Just got done with dinner. I’m heading up to the room, now.”  
  
  
“How was the charity thing?”  
  
  
The doors slide to a close with a soft _click._ “It was good. Lots of kids running around. I taught them how to do the Electric Slide.”  
  
  
“Of course you did,” Louis shakes his head, grinning at the thought of Harry, tall and pigeon-toed in a white floral suit, teaching young children 70’s dance crazes. “Can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am to have missed that.”  
  
  
“I’m certain someone took photos,” Harry says, making his way down a deserted corridor to the penthouses. He pulls the keycard from his pocket and unlocks the door to his suite, flicking the light on when he steps inside. The maid tidied up his room while he was out, leaving a clean set of towels in the bathroom, the bed freshly made and stacked with extra pillows. He steps out of his boots and starts to strip down to his briefs, the phone cradled against his ear. “What about you?” he asks. “I’m having trouble picturing you at an art festival, if I’m honest.”  
  
  
“I mostly went for the food.”  
  
  
Harry laughs, “naturally.”  
  
  
“Oh, but I did buy something actually,” Louis remembers then. “It’s a watercolour painting. Thought it would be nice for the baby’s room.”  
  
  
“Oh yeah? What’s it a painting of?”  
  
  
“Hot air balloons. ‘s pretty. It doesn’t have a frame, though.”  
  
  
Harry hums, “we should have some extra frames lying around somewhere. In the attic, maybe. When I get home, I’ll hang it up.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, his heart warm. “Thank you,” he whispers.  
  
  
“You’re welcome, baby.”  
  
  
Louis listens to the mattress dip as Harry climbs into bed. He bites his lip, switching the phone to his other ear. “Oh, and uhm, something else happened.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry stacks some pillows up against the headboard and settles back, stretching his legs out. “What’s that?”  
  
  
“Well…it’s not a big deal or anything, just, uhm – there was this guy at the food court and—”  
  
  
Harry smirks. “Oh, there was a _guy_ , huh?”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, grinning in spite of himself. “Yes, Haz. A guy.”  
  
  
“Hmm, and what did this guy do?” Harry teases, turning on his side. He props himself up on one elbow, his cheek resting against his palm.  
  
  
“Well,” Louis says, “I sat down at a picnic table he was at, and he was drawing in his sketchbook, and like, then we started talking about art or whatever. And I… _I_ thought it was just a friendly chat but, erm…he gave me his number after.”  
  
  
Harry groans pitifully, shaking his head. “Amazing. I leave for three seconds, and some guy in a food court tries to chat you up.”  
  
  
“It was three days, not seconds,” Louis points out.  
  
  
Harry mumbles something unintelligible and then says, “what did he look like?”  
  
  
Louis laughs, low and full, “why does it matter?”  
  
  
“Because I’m a jealous shit, and I want to know,” Harry murmurs easily.  
  
  
Louis audibly hums in thought, indulging him. “I don’t know, he was – like, tall. Blond hair. Loads of tattoos…a tongue ring.”  
  
  
“A _tongue ring?_ ” Harry gapes.  
  
  
Louis tries not to laugh, “mhmmm.”  
  
  
Harry sputters, his brow furrowing. “Well that’s just…completely unnecessary.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. Riling Harry up shouldn’t be this fun. “Yeah, imagine getting head with that.”  
  
  
“Lou,” Harry chastises then.  
  
  
“I’m _kidding_ ,” Louis says, brushing his fingertips against the pillow and sort of wishing it was Harry’s chest. “You know I only want you, Daddy.”  
  
  
“Mm,” Harry hums, satisfied. “You said he was tall then? How tall?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “I dunno, just…tall.”  
  
  
“Taller than me?”  
  
  
Louis smiles, affectionately. “Will it make you feel better if I say no?”  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“Then no, he absolutely wasn’t taller than you. Not at all.”  
  
  
“Hmph,” Harry grunts.  
  
  
Louis laughs, feeling a bit giddy, “you’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”  
  
  
Harry closes his eyes, shoving half his face against the pillow. Louis can practically hear the pout on his lips. “I can’t help it. You know how I get.”  
  
  
“Possessive?” Louis offers.  
  
  
Harry groans. “Can’t we just say ‘protective’ instead? It sounds better.”  
  
  
“Fine,” Louis concedes, half-heartedly. “You are so very _protective_ of me.”  
  
  
Harry scratches at his nose, still pouting. “Just can’t wait for your bump to start showing,” he admits. “Maybe then other blokes will take the hint and leave you alone.”  
  
  
Louis smiles and shakes his head, sliding a hand down over his belly. “I have a feeling you’ll be even more _protective_ over me then.”  
  
  
Harry grins. “You’re probably right.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, his hand smoothing down to touch his thigh. He drags his fingertips over the warm skin, suddenly reminded of a certain _other_ thing he’s been meaning to tell Harry about. He pulls his hand away, a little nervous, hooking it up around his wrist. “Oh, and uhm,” he clears his throat, “something else happened.”  
  
  
“Full of secrets tonight, aren’t you?” Harry says.  
  
  
Louis falls quiet at that, uncertain, and Harry’s quick to reassure him. “I’m only teasing, baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Go on. What happened?”  
  
  
“Well…” Louis shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just – uhm. I sort of…touched.”  
  
  
It’s quiet on the other end of the line, and Louis’s heart pounds, waiting for Harry’s response.  
  
  
Another beat of silence passes, and then…  
  
  
“Define _sort of_.”  
  
  
Louis’s ears turn pink. “Just – I just used my hand,” he says, meekly. “No fingers.”  
  
  
Harry hums to himself, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. “And when exactly did this happen?”  
  
  
“Uhm, yesterday morning…” Louis confesses, “I was going to tell you sooner, but—”  
  
  
“Did you come?” Harry asks. His voice is calm, measured in a way that’s difficult for Louis to read.  
  
  
Louis swallows thickly and nods his head, before remembering Harry can’t actually see him. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice small.  
  
  
Harry makes a sound of disapproval, but unbeknownst to Louis, he can’t keep the smirk off his lips. “Well, then,” he clicks his tongue. “Haven’t been a very good boy, have you?”  
  
  
Bizarrely, Louis feels close to tears— _again?_ That makes twice in one night! What the hell is going on with him? It doesn’t even make sense for him to cry. Realistically, he knows Harry isn’t actually cross with him—he’s just trying to play up the role a bit, maybe steer the conversation into some not-so-innocent fun, but…Christ, Louis’s emotions have been all out of whack ever since he woke up this morning, clouding his sensibility, and he can’t help feeling that maybe Harry really _is_ disappointed with him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, rushing to explain. “Just – I was going to call you to ask first, but I couldn’t because of the time and I was just really hard, and it _hurt_ and I—”  
  
  
“Woah, love,” Harry interjects then, the smirk vanishing from his face when he hears how fretful Louis sounds. “It’s – it’s okay. If it’s hurting you, you don’t have to wait for permission, and you definitely don’t have to apologise.” He rolls onto his back, switching the phone to his other ear, his brows drawing together in concern. “And – baby, you know I’d never _actually_ be angry with you over something like that, right? What’s all this about?”  
  
  
Louis exhales, relieved and a little embarrassed. He shakes his head, feeling stupid. “I don’t even know, it’s – sorry. _God_ , I don’t mean to be like this, I just...all day long I’ve been dealing with some stupid mood swing thing, I guess.”  
  
  
Harry can’t help but smile. “You don’t have to apologise for that, either.”  
  
  
“It’s made me a blubbering idiot,” Louis continues. “And to top it all off, the reason I…you know… _touched,_ is, well…I think maybe it’s because of the symptoms or whatever but I’m like…” he cuts himself off, self-conscious.  
  
  
Harry is patient on the other end of the line, always so patient with Louis. “What is it, love?” he murmurs, gently.  
  
  
Louis steels himself, his eyes clenched shut and his voice barely a whisper. “Lately I just – just keep getting hard. Like, a lot,” he admits, his face heating up. “And…and you’re not here, and it’s _frustrating_.”  
  
  
Harry makes a sympathetic sound, feeling a pang of guilt that he isn’t there to take care of him. “I’m sorry, baby. I had no idea you were going through all of that. I’m…shit, I would have never teased you like I did today if I’d known,” he laments, remembering their rather explicit text messages from earlier.  
  
  
“No, no – I liked that,” Louis shakes his head, already feeling better. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest just from being able to talk it all out like this. “It just feels like everything to do with this pregnancy has hit me all at once this week, and I’m just having to adjust to it. It’s not your fault.”  
  
  
Harry hums in thought. “It sort of is, though. When you think about it.” He pauses, smiling. “If you’re feeling moody and getting needy, it’s partly because of me. I’m the one who put that baby inside you, remember?”  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes. Leave it to Harry’s mind to go straight to _that_ place. “How could I ever forget?”  
  
  
“Dunno,” Harry says, confident. “I certainly haven’t forgotten.”  
  
  
The warmth in his voice sends a slight shiver down Louis’s spine. He rolls over onto his side, still keeping the phone pressed to his ear. “Daddy…”  
  
  
Harry bites his lip, his hand reflexively reaching down to cup his dick at the word. “What is it baby?”  
  
  
Louis keens at the sudden change in Harry’s voice, how it’s turned all soft and low and velvety. It’s the same voice he uses every time he gets Louis in bed, and he miserably shoves his face into the pillow, wishing Harry were here to touch him. “I miss you.”  
  
  
Harry actually coos, using that same fucking _voice_. “I miss you too, baby,” he murmurs. “Very much.”  
  
  
Louis fidgets a bit, heaving a sigh. Normally if he wants Harry to know he’s turned on, all he has to do is press in close until his dick nudges up against his thigh, but he _can’t_. He’s not _here_. “Daddy,” he says again.  
  
  
“Yes, baby?” Harry says, a smile in his voice – like he _knows_.  
  
  
Louis groans and shakes his head, cursing into the pillow. He wishes he could curl up on Harry’s chest, let him know how much he wants it without having to use a single word, hide his face in the crook of his neck and wiggle around on his lap until he feels Harry’s bulge tightening up. Instead, all he can do is press his hips down into the mattress, his prick swelling fast between his legs. He’s getting needy again, Harry’s voice still echoing in his head, _I’m the one who put that baby inside you._  
  
  
“You can tell me,” Harry says, and he _definitely_ knows.  
  
  
Louis clenches his eyes shut, his hand gripping at the pillow, resisting the urge to rub himself against the bed, “I...I’m like… _horny_ ,” he whispers, his cheeks going pink.  
  
  
Harry’s mouth stretches into a smirk. “Yeah?” he murmurs, pleasantly surprised that Louis just admitted something like that. Usually, he would be too shy. “Is your cock gettin’ all stiff and hard?”  
  
  
Louis moans and rolls over onto his back, kicking the blanket off. It’s suddenly way too hot in this room.  
  
  
Harry’s still cupping himself, rubbing his thumb in tiny circles. “You can touch yourself, baby,” he says. “It’s okay. I know it’s not fair that I’ve left you at home like this, all by yourself with no way to come.”  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip – _God_ , he’s missed having Harry talk to him like that. It’s making his dick tent at the front of his briefs, nudging up against the cotton for some attention. He wants more—wants _Daddy_. But he knows he has to ask for it, first.  
  
  
He flattens his hand, dragging his palm over the silky sheets, unsure of how to word this. “I – could we – could you, like…help?” he asks, tentative.  
  
  
Harry grins lasciviously. They’ve never actually done this before— _phone sex_. Which is surprising, really, considering how much Louis _loves_ dirty talk. He loves it so much, he gets off on it most of the time, often needs Harry murmuring absolute filth into his ear just to send him over the edge. But as much as Louis loves _hearing_ it, he’s usually too embarrassed to say much in return. The last time they tried this, while Harry locked himself in his office during an extended break at work, it was mostly Harry murmuring into the phone while they both jerked off, with Louis only whimpering quietly on the other end.  
  
  
But whether he’s quiet or loud, Louis turns Harry on like nothing else, and the thought of him being all alone in their bed—all pent up with a few days’ worth of sexual frustration and needing him so much, has Harry totally on board for this. “Of course I’ll help, baby.”  
  
  
Louis sighs, relieved, and Harry adjusts his cock in his briefs, thinking of the best way to set this up, so that Louis is as comfortable as possible. He knows that Louis likes it best when Harry takes complete control, so he doesn’t have to overthink things, or second-guess himself. That way, he can just follow Harry’s lead, submitting easily, and responding well when he’s praised. Louis might not be the first to admit it, but Harry knows how much he likes to be dominated.  
  
  
He sets the tone right away, his voice firm, but still gentle. “But if we’re going to do this, I need you to be a good listener. Don’t do anything until I tell you to, okay?”  
  
  
Louis nods, hanging onto his every word, his skin buzzing with anticipation now, “okay.”  
  
  
“You gonna be good for me? If you’re good, I’ll let you come.”  
  
  
“I’ll be good,” Louis breathes, and he can already feel himself going pliant for Harry, submitting to him naturally, even over the phone.  
  
  
Harry smiles at the eagerness in his voice. His boy is so perfect. “Good,” he says, deciding to start with a simple command. “Now, get undressed. Don’t leave anything on, want you naked on the bed.”  
  
  
“Okay,” Louis nods, sitting up to tug his shirt off before shimmying out of his briefs, his dick bobbing up to rest against his hip, getting even harder just from being told what to do, Harry _domming_ him for what feels like the first time in ages. It’s what he’s been _craving_.  
  
  
He lies back down, completely naked against the sheets, feeling so incredibly bare and exposed, even though no one can see him. His heart pounds fast in his chest, wracked with nerves and excitement for whatever’s going to happen next, wondering what Harry might have planned for him. “Alright,” Louis breathes into the phone. “I – I took them off.”  
  
  
“Good boy,” Harry nods. “Now tell me which side of the bed you’re on, baby. Yours or mine?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip. “Yours,” he whispers. “I’ve been using your pillow.”  
  
  
“Yeah? How come?”  
  
  
“It smells like you.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. “That’s sweet, baby.”  
  
  
Louis’s prick gives a little twitch. He really likes it when Harry tells him he’s sweet. “Daddy,” he pouts, trying his best to keep still, but needing some sort of touch.  
  
  
Harry ignores that word for now and fluffs the pillows behind his back. “I’m curious, baby,” he says, stretching his legs out, getting comfortable. “What is it that’s been making you so hard lately? Have you been thinking about me?”  
  
  
Louis nods, “so much.” His fingers curl into the sheets. “You’re all I think about when I get like this.”  
  
  
Harry hums his approval. “What about when you touched?”  
  
  
Louis presses his thighs together, trying to ignore the ache between them and focus solely on Harry’s voice, “uhm, I woke up hard,” he admits, his voice quiet and very small. “From a dream.”  
  
  
“Do you remember what you dreamed about?” Harry asks, keeping his questions simple and direct, slowly easing Louis into the right headspace.  
  
  
Louis closes his eyes, remembering. “I just know we were in our bed. I remember your hands, like, you were holding me down and – and fucking me really hard and…gosh, it just felt so _good_ ,” he whispers.  
  
  
Harry feels his cock stir even more just from hearing the _longing_ in Louis’s voice. “Is that what you like, baby?” he asks. “You like being held down? Letting me use you just to get myself off?”  
  
  
Louis keens at that, “mhm.”  
  
  
Harry hums. “What if I got you on my lap?” he murmurs, soft and suggestive. “Would you like that? If I let you ride me bareback for hours? Sit back just to watch you bounce on my cock?”  
  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis whimpers.  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, listening to the way Louis’s breathing has already started to hitch through the phone. “No wonder you’re getting so needy,” he says. “Haven’t fucked you in days.”  
  
  
Louis squirms, mewling a bit, his hands smoothing up his thighs, itching to touch.  
  
  
“Poor little thing,” Harry murmurs. “Getting so horny, and Daddy’s not there to take care of you.”  
  
  
Louis buries his face in the crook of his arm. His cock is straining against his hip, all full and pink and hard. “ _Daddy_ ,” he whines.  
  
  
Harry cups his bulge again, just holding. “You want to come for me, baby?”  
  
  
Louis’s head drops back against the pillow with a moan, getting flustered.  
  
  
“Hm?” Harry prompts. “Use your words.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, his hips canting up. “Want you to make me come,” he breathes, speaking in the soft, small voice he finds himself slipping into whenever Harry talks to him like this, like Daddy. “Please.”  
  
  
“Oh I will, baby. Keep being good for me and you’ll be covered in it,” Harry tells him. “But I need you to tell me _how_. How do you want to come?”  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath. “I want…” he falters and shuts his mouth, the words dying out in his throat.  
  
  
“You don’t have to be shy, baby,” Harry says, coaxing gently. “I’m gonna take care of you. You can tell me anything.”  
    
  
Louis nods, closing his eyes and getting lost in Harry’s voice. “I just – I wanna know what you would do to me, if you were here…” he says, his fingers twisting in the sheets. “I like it when you tell me all the things you want to do to me.”  
  
  
Harry smiles. He could have guessed as much. Louis wants him to be the one to do the talking, to take control as he naturally does and create the fantasy. And Harry is more than happy to oblige. He settles deeper into the pillows, reaching an arm up behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling and tries to imagine how Louis must look right now, all sprawled out on their bed and begging for some kind of touch. He thinks of what he would do to him first if he were there, and there’s one thing in particular that pops into his head right away.  
  
  
“You know what I want?” Harry says then. “Like, really?”  
  
  
Louis listens close, taking deep breaths to steady himself. “What?”  
  
  
Harry bites his lip, “…I wanna suck your nipples.”  
  
  
Louis’s eyes widen, a sudden heat crawling up his neck, “…why?”  
  
  
Harry shrugs, unabashed. “I just love it. I love what it does to you when I suck them, ‘cause they’re always so sensitive.”  
  
  
Louis shifts a bit on the bed, “they’re even more sensitive now.”  
  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
  
Louis clears his throat, embarrassed. “Well…you know…since I’m pregnant...”  
  
  
“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Harry says, swallowing hard with lust, “…really?”  
  
  
Louis nods, shyly, “yeah…”  
  
  
Harry reaches down, pressing a hand to his erection. “Like – what do they feel like?”  
  
  
Louis fidgets, “erm, sore. And like – sort of tight, I guess.”  
  
  
“Fuck,” Harry whispers, his eyes falling closed, trying to create a mental image. “I’m…I am like, _dying_ to get my mouth on them now. I bet I could make them feel better – I _know_ I could.”  
  
  
The heat floods straight to Louis’s groin at that and he whines, frustrated. “ _Harry_.”  
  
  
“I know, baby,” Harry placates, “I – why don’t you touch them a little bit? See if it makes it better?”  
  
  
Louis’s face practically catches on fire at the suggestion—he’s never done that before, played with his own nipples. And Harry is quick to add, “only if you want to, though.”  
  
  
Louis bites down on his lip, his cheeks scarlet, suddenly curious how it would feel…He audibly gulps, “o-okay.”  
  
  
“Just do one for now,” Harry instructs. “Rub it with your thumb.”  
  
  
Louis’s never felt more bashful. He can feel himself going red all over, blushing from head to toe as he slides a hand up his chest, shivering a bit when he brushes over one of the stiffened buds. They’ve been so sensitive lately, always hard and a bit swollen, and Louis experimentally flicks his thumb against it a few times. He’s surprised by the tiny tremors it sends up his spine, so sensitive even the slightest touch has his body responding.  
  
Harry holds his breath, listening intently, “…how does that feel?”  
  
  
Louis’s heart pounds, “uhm…good, actually.” He traces around the base, feels it tightening up, and then he swirls the pad of his thumb in little circles at the very tip of his nipple, exhaling shakily at the sensation it creates.  
  
  
Harry can hear the shiver in Louis’s voice, the way his breathing’s picked up at having his nipples stimulated, and he swallows hard, wishing he could touch them, see how sensitive they are. “Good,” he murmurs, wetting his lips. “Just keep rubbing it, baby. Pretend it’s my tongue, licking you like that.”  
  
  
Louis can’t believe how worked up he’s getting over this, his nipple getting even harder, and he switches to his index finger, flicking it back and forth over the tip with a moan.  
  
  
On the other end of the phone, Harry shoves his briefs down, his cock slapping up onto his abdomen. He wraps a hand around it, twisting his fist over the head. It’s such a fucking turn on – listening to each and every sound Louis makes while he touches his nipple, all the little gasps of surprise, like he didn’t know it would feel this good. And Harry can’t stop licking his lips, palming himself. “Give it a little pinch, baby, I’m suckin’ on it now.”  
  
  
Louis bites down hard on his lip to hold in a whimper and does as he’s told, rolling his nipple between two fingers. He gives it a pinch and his back arches up, a little dribble of wetness actually beading at the tip of his cock from the touch. He wants it _so_ much – didn’t even realise how much he wanted it until Harry said something, and now it’s all he can _think_ about—having Harry’s mouth on him, sucking gently on his nipple. “Daddy,” he pouts.  
  
  
“Just close your eyes, baby, I’m right there,” Harry tells him, reassuring. “Got you under me, sucking on your sore little nipple. It’s getting so _swollen_ but I can’t stop. I just keep rubbing my tongue against it, ‘til you start to moan for me.”  
  
  
As if on cue, Louis does moan, his eyes closed and his fingers pinching and pulling at his nipple, his ears trained on Harry’s voice.  
  
  
“Does that feel good?”  
  
  
“Mhm,” Louis breathes. He can’t keep still, chewing at his lip.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry murmurs. “You like when I suck them, don’t you, baby?”  
  
  
Louis lets go, licking obscenely at his fingers before touching himself again, desperate to recreate the feel of Harry’s wet mouth, and Harry can practically _see_ him wriggling against the sheets, tugging on his nipple until it’s puffy and pink. He licks his lips, his mouth watering at the thought, keeping close to the receiver, “I love having you in my mouth. Your nipple’s so little and hard. I can’t stop sucking on it.”  
  
  
Louis’s cock lets out another blurt of precome and he bucks his hips up from the bed, rubbing the tip over the wetness on his belly. “Please,” he whispers, desperate.  
  
  
Harry keeps going, his voice like silk through the phone, “I can feel you squirming under me, trying to keep still but you just can’t help it. You’re embarrassed by how much you like it, having your little nipples played with.”  
  
  
Louis almost sobs he’s so flustered, his nipple getting so sensitive it’s starting to sting from all the teasing. He can’t keep this up. He needs something more – his cock is pounding at the tip and his whole body’s on fire. “Can’t,” he gasps, shaking his head and pulling his hand away, “more – need more – please.”  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry murmurs. “You wanna touch your cock now, baby?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, already ridiculously close to spilling out all over his stomach. “Can’t,” he whimpers. “If I touch it will make me come.”  
  
  
Harry makes a soft sound. “Well that’s okay, isn’t it? I thought you wanted to come?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “I do, but…want something else.”  
  
  
Harry hums. “You gonna tell me what it is? Tell me and you’ll get it.”  
  
  
Louis closes his eyes, feels his hole clenching up around nothing. “I just want to be fucked,” he admits, shy.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry grins, loving how vocal Louis’s becoming. “You miss my cock, don’t you, baby?”  
  
  
Louis actually kicks his feet in frustration, burying his face in his hands. He feels strung out, like he’s going out of his _mind_ with want, and Harry just keeps _talking_ to him like that, winding him up more and more, until he’s starving for it, for something he can’t even _have_ – Harry’s cock, filling him up so he’s not empty anymore, making that terrible ache inside go away. “I’m so empty,” he whispers, not even caring how pitiful he sounds. “Hate being empty.”  
  
  
Harry squeezes his cock tight around the base, can feel it throbbing just from how fucking _needy_ Louis sounds right now. The need to please him is instinctive, and he feels guilty that he can’t be there—he’d have him pinned to the bed in two seconds flat if he were, pounding in deep, giving him everything he wants. “Baby…” he murmurs with a frown.  
  
  
Louis whines at the pet name, miserably shaking his head. “Wanna be _fucked_ ,” he says again, his hips pushing down like he wishes Harry was underneath him.  
  
  
“Baby, listen to me,” Harry says, speaking clearly to get his attention. “Do you wanna use a toy?”  
  
  
Louis freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t even thought of that. He exhales, uncertain. “I…I’m allowed?”  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Of course, baby. I can’t just leave you empty like this,” he murmurs. “Besides that, you deserve it. Been _so_ good for me so far.”  
  
  
Louis lights up at the praise, tucking his thighs together. “I – okay.”  
  
  
“You want to?”  
  
  
“Yeah – want to,” he breathes, sitting up.  
  
  
“Alright then, little love. The box is in my closet, third shelf on the left. Go ahead and get it.”  
  
  
It takes Louis a moment, surprised by this turn of events. And then he’s crawling out of bed, padding barefoot across the carpet, a whole new wave of nerves and excitement coursing through him now. They’ve used the toys a couple of times in the past, but Harry is usually in charge of things when they do. Louis’s never experimented with one on his own before.  
  
  
He flicks on the light in Harry’s closet, still cradling the phone against his ear, looking around until he spots the box on the shelf, shiny and black. He has to stand on a step stool to reach it, carrying it down with nervous hands. He sets it on the floor and kneels down beside it, carefully lifting the lid. Inside he finds his toys—the pink plug, the ribbon, and an assortment of vibrators and dildos that Harry’s bought for him.  
  
  
Seeing them all gathered in one place makes Louis flush. “Okay,” he breathes, “uhm, which – which one?”  
  
  
Harry sits up, digging for the bottle of lube he’s been keeping in the hotel’s bedside table. He’s going to have some fun with this. “Whichever one you want, baby,” he murmurs. “Your choice.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, sifting through the box. He decides on one of the dildos, the one that’s flesh-coloured and a bit veiny, made to look like a real cock, with a suction cup on the other end. He shuts the box, blushing to himself as he carries the toy back to bed. “Okay,” he whispers into the phone, letting Harry know he’s ready as he settles back against the pillows.  
  
  
“Which one did you pick?” Harry asks, scratching at his hip.  
  
  
The corner of Louis’s lip turns up as he twists the dildo around in his hand. “The one that resembles an actual dick.”  
  
  
“Good choice,” Harry laughs. He puts his phone on speaker and lays it on his chest, freeing up his hands. Then he uncaps the lube, pouring a bit out into his palm. “Why that one?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, thumbing at one of the veins that bulges in the shaft. “Because it looks like yours,” he admits.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry smirks, feeling a bit smug. He settles back on the bed, palming himself. “Why don’t you give it a little suck, then?”  
  
  
Louis’s pulse almost flat lines at that—everything feels so _dirty_ over the phone, so out in the open and depraved, but it’s making him that much harder, makes him want to submit and be good for Harry, do whatever he tells him to. He can only imagine how red he must be getting, how obscene he must look as he raises the dildo to his mouth. He kisses all around the tip at first, teasing it just like he does to Harry’s cock, before sucking it between his lips.  
  
  
Harry closes his eyes, listening to the sounds Louis’s mouth makes through the phone. He tries to picture it, makes a little O-shape between his thumb and forefinger and then pushes his cockhead through the hole, remembering the way Louis looks up at him from under his lashes when he sucks him off, always a little shy and eager and wanting to please him. “So perfect, baby,” Harry whispers. “Getting my cock all wet.”  
  
  
Louis pulls off of the toy then, sad at how lifeless it is. It doesn’t twitch and grow in his mouth, doesn’t leak when he’s doing a good job. “Daddy,” he pouts, wishing Harry were here to pet his hair while he sucks.  
  
  
“Don’t stop, baby, please,” Harry murmurs, tugging wetly on the head. “Feels so good.”  
  
  
Louis can hardly believe Harry’s actually begging for this, for Louis to keep going – simulate giving him a _blowjob_ through the phone. Encouraged, he puts the toy in his mouth again, letting saliva gather on his tongue and making wet smacking sounds, being purposely loud about it so Harry can hear him.  
  
  
Harry’s head tips back as he listens, his lashes fluttering closed, pumping a wet fist over his dick and pretending it’s Louis’s mouth. “God, baby,” he whispers, his hips nudging up, getting into it. A thick blob of precome bubbles out from his slit and he swirls it around with his thumb, imagining it’s Louis’s tongue licking at him. “My cock’s leaking so much,” he murmurs. “Wish you could taste how good you’re making me feel.”  
  
  
Louis preens, moaning wetly around the toy. He does his best to pretend it’s Harry’s cock, working one hand around the base while he bobs his head, humming as he sinks down on it. He pulls off just to lick at all the sensitive spots Harry likes, lapping at the underside where he’s extra sensitive, panting a bit. He can hear Harry’s groans getting louder through the phone, skin slapping against skin as he jerks off to thought of having Louis’s mouth on his cock, and Louis noisily sucks, making needy little sounds, like he’d do anything to taste his come.  
  
  
“There you go,” Harry murmurs, exhaling shakily. “You like that, baby?”  
  
  
Louis lays back against the pillow and closes his eyes, leisurely sliding the toy in and out of his mouth, “so much,” he whispers.  
  
  
“Yeah? Like having me in your mouth?”  
  
  
"Mhm," Louis moans, muffled and wet.  
  
  
"Yeah?" Harry breathes. His hand speeds up, jerking fast. "You like my cock? Like sucking on it?"  
  
  
Louis slurps around the tip, pulling off with a _pop_. “Love it, Daddy.”  
  
  
“Jesus,” Harry grunts, and then his hips are snapping up from the bed, fucking hard into his hand, and without warning, he comes all over his fist in thick spurts.  
  
  
Louis lets the toy slip out of his mouth in surprise, blushing to himself as he listens to Harry pant and groan through the phone, sounding _rather_ satisfied. “Did you just—?”  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry breathes, totally shameless. He rolls his shoulders back, letting out a long sigh. “Couldn’t help it. That really got to me for some reason.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, pleased with himself.  
  
  
“It’s probably for the best,” Harry says then, chuckling a bit as he reaches for a tissue. “I gotta focus on getting you ready for the toy.”  
  
  
Louis turns the dildo around in his hand, suddenly intimidated. The concept of putting dick-shaped things up his bum is in no way foreign to him, of course, but...Harry is always the one to prep him for sex, fingering him open with lube until he’s good and ready so that he won’t get hurt. Louis’s never actually had to do it to _himself_ before. It’s amazing, really, how much Harry takes charge of things in bed, not wanting Louis to worry about anything except his own pleasure. He’s always known that Harry takes exceptionally good care of him, but he hadn’t realised exactly just how much Harry does for him until tonight, when he’s left to fend for himself.  
  
  
“You take such good care of me,” Louis says then, without really meaning to, his face half-hidden against the pillow.  
  
  
Harry just smiles. “Are you nervous, baby?”  
  
  
Louis looks down at the dildo again, squeezing his hand around the base where it’s thickest. “A little.”  
  
  
“That’s okay,” Harry tells him. “We’ll go slow, yeah?”  
  
  
Louis exhales, “okay.”  
  
  
“Still want it?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Louis nods, sitting up and listening close for instructions.  
  
  
“Alright, then,” Harry says. “Go and ahead and get the lube out the bedside table.”  
  
  
Louis does, quickly retrieving the bottle from the drawer. “Got it.”  
  
  
“Good. Now put me on speaker and keep your phone close by, want both your hands free.”  
  
  
“Okay,” Louis says, taking orders easily.  
  
  
“Is your cock still hard?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis nods, looking down to where it’s curved up onto his belly, pink at the tip. “Yes.”  
  
  
“Good,” Harry says. “You can touch it a bit if it starts to go down, but don’t come. Not until I say.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, his ears tuned to Harry’s every word. “Won’t.”  
  
  
“I know you won’t,” Harry says. “Now, pour some lube out onto your fingers. Rub them together to warm it up.”  
  
  
Louis does, fumbling with the cap, getting bashful again. “’kay.”  
  
  
“You ready?”  
  
  
“Mhm.”  
  
  
“Good.” Harry re-fluffs his pillows, settling back against the headboard. “Then spread your thighs open and put your hand between your legs like a good boy.”  
  
  
Louis almost whimpers at that, his hand slipping down under his prick. “Okay,” he whispers, anxious.  
  
  
“Go ahead and touch yourself, baby,” Harry tells him, gently. “Rub your fingers over your hole.”  
  
  
Louis does, swirling his fingertips around the delicate, slightly wrinkled skin of his rim. He closes his eyes, lets himself feel, and it’s nice just to touch, to have some sort of pressure there for the first time in days. He lets out a little sigh, and Harry smiles. “That feel good?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Louis says, shy.  
  
  
“Good,” Harry says. “Just keep rubbing it, baby. Make little circles with your fingers. Get yourself wet.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, and he doesn’t know what’s getting to him more—the soft touches against his hole, or Harry talking to him like that.  
  
  
It doesn’t take long before he feels himself loosening up, his rim starting to flutter and wink. Meanwhile, Harry listens for the subtle changes in Louis’s breathing, smiling to himself when he hears a little moan. “Whenever you’re ready, slip one of your fingers inside, but don’t rush,” he tells him. “Go slow.”  
  
  
Louis takes a deep breath, nudging the tip of his pointer finger past his rim up to the knuckle, feeling his body clench up around it. “Daddy,” he whimpers. “I’m tight.”  
  
  
Harry bites back a groan, his eyes falling closed. “I know you are, baby,” he murmurs, the longing clear in his voice. “That’s why you’ve gotta touch yourself. Open up around your fingers and get nice and wet. Then you can have your toy.”  
  
  
Louis mewls and slips his finger out before pushing it further in, wiggling around a bit, pressing against the slickness inside.  
  
  
They take it painstakingly slow, building up one by one, until Louis has three fingers crooked inside himself, lube leaking out all over the sheets.  
  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” he whispers, trembling a bit as he brushes close to his spot.  
  
  
Harry’s been teasing him the whole time, wants to get him flustered and gagging for the toy, so he strokes his cock and keeps his mouth close to the phone, his voice low and _filthy_. “Wish I could see you right now,” he murmurs, “squirmin’ around on the bed with your hand between your legs, touching yourself while Daddy’s away.”  
  
  
Louis sounds absolutely wrecked at that, embarrassed and turned on, pumping his fingers in and out with a whine. “ _Daddy_.”  
  
  
“You want your toy now, baby?” Harry asks. “Fill you up so you won’t be empty anymore?”  
  
  
Louis tosses and turns, his fingers scrambling to find his spot. His cock gives a twitch each time he gets close to it, precome dribbling out onto his belly. It feels like Harry’s kept him on the edge for several hours, getting him so close and then pulling him back again. “Want it,” he breathes.  
  
  
“You sure you’re ready?” Harry asks.  
  
  
Louis collapses against the pillow then, breathless and frustrated, his arm getting tired. “Ready,” he says, “m’ready – please.”  
  
  
“Take your fingers out and slick up the toy then,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
Louis is quick to obey, drizzling generous amounts of lube onto the dildo, until it’s shiny and dripping. “Okay,” he breathes.  
  
  
“Good. Now put it between your legs and touch it to your hole. Nudge the tip of it in when you’re ready, but _go slow_ ,” Harry tells him.  
  
  
Louis does as he says, circling the fake cockhead over his rim before gently pushing it inside. It stings a bit at first, but only briefly, his muscles giving way. Harry talks him through the rest, inch by inch, having Louis pause at certain intervals to adjust or apply more lube, until he’s got more than half the toy stuffed inside himself.  
  
  
Louis takes several deep breaths, his hand gripping around the base, ready to speed things up. “Can I—?”  
  
  
“Is this how you want it, baby? On your back?” Harry asks. “It’s okay if you do. I’m just checking to see if you want to change positions first.”  
  
  
Louis has to think about it. He hadn’t even considered that he _could_ use it any other way, unless…  
  
  
“Could I—” he clears his throat, embarrassed. “It’s just, uhm, there’s like – like a suction cup at the one end? And I could maybe…maybe see if it would, like, stick to the headboard?” He rushes to explain, fidgeting, his face hot. “And then I could just – just rock back on it?”  
  
  
Harry’s already grinning wide like a cat, listening to Louis cutely stutter through the phone. “You want it from behind, huh?”  
  
  
Louis swallows hard, “yes,” he admits, quietly.  
  
  
“That’s perfect with me, love,” Harry tells him. “Whatever you want. I just wanna make you feel good, okay? Now, why don’t you take the toy out – _slowly_ – and check to see if it sticks?”  
  
  
Louis doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He has the best Daddy in the world.  
  
  
Thankfully, it _does_ stick, the cup suctioning tight and locking into place. It looks downright vulgar, a lifelike cock protruding from the wooden headboard of the bed. Louis tucks Harry’s pillow underneath it, straddling it with his thighs as he gets into position. He arches his back, and it takes a few tries to line himself up, but he gets there in the end, the tip catching on his hole. He reaches back and holds himself open with both hands, his phone sat on the pillow in front of him while Harry’s soft voice hums through the speaker, murmuring instructions and praises. “That’s it, love,” he says. “Just sink back on it.”  
  
  
It’s rubbery but firm in texture and Louis is so relieved to have something to clench down on he could _weep_. He crouches down low on his knees, hugging the pillow while he rocks himself backwards onto the toy. “Fuck,” he whispers, keeping his mouth close to the phone.  
  
  
“Good?” Harry asks.  
  
  
“Mhm,” Louis moans.  
  
  
“Yeah? You gonna pretend it’s my cock?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, wiggling his bottom to take more in. “It’s not as big as you…”  
  
  
Harry smirks. “That’s greedy, baby. You’re so spoiled from Daddy’s cock,” he murmurs, sounding _unbearably_ pleased with himself. “But the toy will still make you feel good, yeah? Even though I’m bigger?”  
  
  
Louis blushes at the dirty talk and hides his face in the pillow, getting worked up.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Harry slides a hand up and down his cock, already hard again just from teaching Louis how to finger himself. “You hitting your spot?” he asks.  
  
  
Louis pants and swivels his hips, searching. He’s almost there – he can feel it, but it’s still not enough. “No,” he eventually sighs. “Keep getting so close but – _can’t_.” He messily jerks his hips, getting frustrated.  
  
  
Harry thinks of what he’d do if he had Louis on his knees in front of him, fucking him from behind. “Spread your thighs a little bit, baby,” he tells him. “And when you push back on the toy, try to aim it towards your tummy.”  
  
  
Louis listens closely, leaning forward until he’s got just the tip inside and then shifting his hips, switching up the angle. He parts his thighs, arching his back and pushing his bum out, imaging that he’s kneeling in front of Harry like this. He sinks back on the toy, aiming just as he’s told, bobbing up and down a bit to nudge it deeper inside…and then he lets out a little cry, his mouth falling open with a shudder that wracks through his whole body.  
  
  
Harry smiles. “Find it?”  
  
  
Louis nods, going limp as the tip presses right up against his prostate. “Fuck,” he gasps, “ _thank you_.”  
  
  
Harry’s smile softens, “you’re welcome, baby.” It strokes his ego a bit, knowing how much Louis depends on him, knowing he can still take care of him like this, have him all hard and needy and looking to Harry to make him feel better, even over the phone – even with a _sex toy_ inside him. “Just keep pushing down into that spot. Fuck yourself on it.”  
  
  
Louis’s breath hitches, his hands gripping at the pillow for leverage before pitching himself forwards and then back again, bucking his hips. And then Harry can hear the headboard knocking against the wall as Louis slams back onto the toy, his arse jiggling, gone for it. “Oh,” he whimpers, “oh – oh my _god_.”  
  
  
“There you go,” Harry murmurs, palming himself. “That feels good, huh, baby?”  
  
  
“Daddy,” Louis whispers into the phone, thinking of the way that word makes Harry shiver and grunt and fuck him harder.  
  
  
Harry drops his head back, his eyes falling closed and his hand twisting over his cockhead. “Wish I could see you right now, bent over and fucking your little toy.”  
  
  
Louis whines and ruts his hips, hugging the pillow even tighter, practically humping it while he rocks back and forth, letting out staccato little _uh, uh, uh’s_.  
  
  
Harry bites his lip while he listens, precome spilling out from his slit. “Fuck, you sound so good...even over the _phone_ ,” he murmurs, disbelief clear in his voice, and then it turns possessive. “ _I_ should be the one making you moan like that, not that piece of plastic.”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head, “feels good, but—” he bites his lip, his cheeks pink, “like yours better.” He makes a keening sound then, sinking back on the lifeless toy and wishing Harry were here to fuck him instead, pull him down onto his cock until he’s stuffed full and shaking with it. “Daddy,” he mewls.  
  
  
“God,” Harry groans, aching for Louis’s body as he pumps his fist, tugging wetly under the head. “I hate having to use my hand, I just wanna be inside you. Know you’d be so fucking tight for me.”  
  
  
Louis whimpers, burying his face in the pillow so that he can smell Harry’s scent and keeping close to the phone so that Harry’s voice is murmuring low into his ear, and then it’s almost like he’s really there, taking Louis from behind. “Please,” Louis whispers, and Harry knows that means _more, tell me more_.  
  
  
Harry wets his lips, his hips pushing up from the bed with a grunt. “Think you’ve got me addicted, baby. I’ve been jerking my cock for days but it’s never enough. I just need to fuck you. Won’t be satisfied until I get it,” he says, his hand speeding up.  
  
  
Louis pants, messily bucking his hips, “more – tell me… _please_.”  
  
  
Harry smirks at how desperate Louis sounds, bouncing on his toy and begging Harry to keep going, keep teasing him. He closes his eyes, keeping his mouth close to the receiver. “You’re always so good for me, aren’t you baby? I can make you come all over yourself and you’ll still let me fuck you ‘til I’m finished.”  
  
  
Louis pivots up on his knees, moaning wantonly as he impales himself on the toy. It keeps making a wet squelching sound each time it pumps in and out, lube spilling out around the base and dripping down the backs of his thighs. He feels filthy like this, his hands clutching at the pillow while he moves his hips in little circles, massaging the toy against his spot. “Feels so good - _oh_ ,” he mewls, “oh – oh, _f-fuck_.”  
  
  
"That's it, baby, fuck that toy." Harry’s panting on the other end of the phone, fucking his fist so hard Louis can hear his balls slapping up against him. “Make your little hole clench on it."  
  
  
Louis's mouth falls open on a silent gasp, nestling the toy tight inside him. " _Daddy_."  
  
  
"Shit," Harry gasps, his bicep bulging as he pumps his hand. "You getting close, baby?”  
  
  
Louis whines and rocks backward, his arse smacking wetly against the headboard, stinging a bit, like he’s being spanked and fucked all at once. The rubbery head of the toy knocks right into his spot and he lets out a shout, frantically jerking his hips. “Close – close, Daddy,” he gasps.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry breathes. “Gonna come on your toy?”  
  
  
Louis lets out a dry sob, embarrassed, pushing his cock into the soft cotton of the pillow. There’s a wet spot on it from where he’s leaked and leaked and _leaked_.  
  
  
“That’s naughty, baby,” Harry tells him. “Fucking a dildo until Daddy gets home, wishing it was my cock.”  
  
  
Louis wails and bites down on the pillow, his thighs trembling. He tosses his head back, his face screwed up, seconds from orgasming, “ _ah – ah – ah,_ ” he gasps, his cock starting to spurt, helpless, “can’t, can’t – please, _please_.”  
  
  
Harry feels the heat pooling low in his gut, his balls drawing up tight, and he plants both feet on the bed, snapping his hips up and fucking hard and fast into his hand. “Fuck – fuck – _now_ , Louis,” he grunts. “Come _, now_. Go on and come all over your toy, baby. Make yourself feel so fucking good.”  
  
  
Louis lets out a cry, his body coiling up tight like a spring before it unravels, and he shudders through his orgasm, enduring wave after wave, his mind blanking into bliss and his cock still nudging gently into the pillow as he spills out all over the cotton, coming so good, he’s drooling with it.  
  
  
  
  
  
It takes a bit for Louis to recover, his body still awkwardly crouched over the pillow and his thighs burning from exertion. Eventually, he pushes up onto his knees and scoots forward, wincing as the toy slips out of him. He unplugs it from the headboard and tosses it away, along with the soiled pillowcase, leaving all the tidying up for the morning. And then he collapses back onto the sheets, suddenly exhausted, his head fuzzy and his chest rising and falling, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.  
  
  
Meanwhile, Harry wipes the come from his chest and abdomen with a tissue, wringing his hand to work out the ache in his wrist. Then he takes his phone off speaker, bringing it up to his ear again. “Still there, love?”  
  
  
Louis blindly reaches for another pillow and tucks himself around it, wishing Harry were here to cuddle him, “mhmm,” he breathes, fucked out.  
  
  
Harry can tell Louis is getting sleepy, but he keeps him on the line. Tonight was a lot, and he tries to give him as much aftercare as he possibly can over the phone, showering him with praise.  
  
  
“You’re so, so perfect for me, baby, I can’t even believe it,” Harry murmurs, his voice brimming with so much pride and affection. “Did everything I asked you to. How did I get such a good boy?”  
  
  
Louis practically glows, humming happily.  
  
  
“Just wish I could be there to take care of you,” Harry laments, guiltily. “I’d run you a bath and put you to bed. Cuddle you all night.”  
  
  
Louis noses at the pillow, biting his lip. “I miss you so much.”  
  
  
“Baby…” Harry murmurs, and Louis hugs the pillow tighter at the word. “I miss you, too. It’s miserable. But just one more night after this, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”  
  
  
Louis nods, and it’s crazy how he can still miss Harry even while being on the phone with him, even when he checks the call log and sees that they’ve been at this for almost three hours, the seconds still ticking away.  
  
  
Harry keeps checking in with him, whispering a last few I love you’s until Louis can’t keep his eyes open anymore, until his phone buzzes in warning, a ‘low battery’ message popping up on the screen.  
  
  
“Get some sleep, love,” Harry tells him. “I’ll call you in the morning.”  
  
  
“’kay,” Louis whispers, and then he’s falling fast into sleep.

 

 

  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s sort of annoying when Louis wakes up early Tuesday morning and can’t get back to sleep. Harry said he would be home around seven in the afternoon, and Louis was really hoping for a quick way to pass the time until then. These days, sleep is supposed to come easily, but at the moment he feels so incredibly restless. He just keeps checking the time, ignoring all the teasing remarks from Zayn while they sit beside each other at the worktop in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables for turkey chili.  
  
  
“Think you’ve hit a new record,” Zayn says. “That’s twice you’ve checked your phone in thirty seconds.”  
  
  
Louis jabs him with his elbow. “Oh, fuck off. We’ll see how well _you_ hold up if Liam ever hops on a plane to the States for five days.”  
  
  
Zayn just smiles, setting his knife down on the cutting board. He wraps his arm around Louis’s waist, giving him a cuddle. “Aw, m’sorry, Lou. I know how much you’ve been missing Harry.”  
  
  
_You have no idea how much_ , Louis thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He just keeps carefully chopping garlic into a fine mince, amazed that the smell hasn’t sent him running straight to the toilet. As of yesterday, he’s twelve weeks along, and he thinks he may finally be getting over the morning sickness stage. “Also,” he says, resisting the urge to check his phone again, “it doesn’t exactly help that I’m up the duff, you know.”  
  
  
Zayn pulls away then, tilting his head to get a look at Louis’s tummy, but Louis knows there isn’t a bump there yet. “Why’s that?” Zayn wonders. “Has it made you, like, clingy?”  
  
  
Louis shrugs. “I guess so.”  
  
  
Liam comes in from the garage then, rounding the worktop to where they’re sitting. He curls his arms around Zayn from behind, rocking back and forth a bit before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Hi, babe.”  
  
  
“Don’t kiss me, Liam. You’ll make Louis jealous,” Zayn says. “He’s been deprived of any touch.”  
  
  
Louis scowls, chucking a bit of garlic at Zayn’s head while Liam spreads his arms open wide with a grin. “There’s plenty of me to go around,” he offers, winking.  
  
  
They both laugh, Zayn swatting at Liam’s stomach, and Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t let Harry catch you saying that.” He presses the home button on his iPhone, sighing when the digital clock lights up on the screen.  
  
  
Four more hours to go.  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
After a few large helpings of chili and a group effort to clean the kitchen, they end up playing FIFA on the big screen in the den. It’s another rainy afternoon and Liam and Zayn have already downed about three beers each, getting pink-cheeked and tipsy, while Louis’s stuck to ice water.  
  
  
“I’m so good at this game,” Liam proclaims, giggling.  
  
  
Zayn shakes his head. “You’ve yet to score a single goal.”  
  
  
“It’s all about the technique, though.”  
  
  
“Which you don’t have,” Zayn points out.  
  
  
Louis laughs in agreement, “you’re alright, Li, but you’re game’s shit compared to mine. Honestly.”  
  
  
Liam takes another swig of his beer, unbothered, “that’s cause you’re dead sober. Go take a shot of something so we can even up the terms.”  
  
  
Louis just shakes his head, and then, as an afterthought, Liam adds, “oh, that’s right, I forgot. You can’t drink.”  
  
  
Louis fumbles the play at that. “Wha – what d’you mean?”  
  
  
Liam furrows his brow. “Well…you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”  
  
  
“How did you—?” Louis gapes at him, before looking around at Zayn.  
  
  
Zayn shakes his head, nonplussed. “I didn’t tell him.”  
  
  
They both look inquiringly to Liam and he shrugs, bringing the beer bottle to his lips again. “I just thought it was obvious.”  
  
  
Louis smacks his hand to his forehead, passing the X-box controller off to Zayn with a groan. So much for keeping things a secret.  
  
  
  
  
  
Outside, the winds pick up. Thunder rolls somewhere off in the distance, the clouds crashing together and making the rain drizzle down, tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the den. Another match begins and Louis heads over to the couch, his bottom growing stiff from sitting on the floor. He’s just sat down when they hear a noise from outside, like the slam of a car door, muffled by the storm.  
  
  
Zayn pauses the game, looking around at Louis. “Is that Harry?”  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “Can’t be. His plane doesn’t land for another hour.” Even so, his heart is already skipping beats as he pushes up from the couch. He heads down the hall to the front room, walking fast, trying and failing to put out the flame of the hope that’s rising in his chest before it gets too high. Maybe it was just the wind.  
  
  
Stepping around an old China cabinet, he pulls back a heavy curtain and peers out the front window, wiping his sleeve against the glass to clear away the fog. Parked on the drive is a black cab, a white and yellow stripe winding around the side. Everything is blurred by the rain but Louis would spot that silhouette anywhere, leaning into the backseat to grab his suitcase before straightening up—Harry.  
  
  
Louis moves automatically, stumbling on the shag carpet as he pushes away from the window, his feet carrying him to the door, every muscle guided by a sudden desperation to be closer, to get to him as soon as possible, unable to stand those agonizing ten seconds it would take for Harry to reach the front step on his own. He throws the door open and then he’s dashing out into the rain, barefoot on the concrete, the wind biting at his skin.  
  
  
When Harry sees him, his face just breaks into that _look_ —the one Louis knows is just for him. And Louis laughs, almost disbelieving at how he could actually feel happy enough to cry. He launches himself forward off the bottom steps and Harry drops his suitcases, opens his arms just in time. He catches Louis, lets his legs tangle around his waist, arms slung tight around his neck. Harry grips at his thighs, hiking him up, pulling him even closer, letting their bodies collide, locking back into place like puzzle pieces, Harry holding him like he never has before, like he’s been waiting to do this since the moment he left.  
  
  
The cab pulls away, the break lights glowing red before it turns out of the drive, and Louis is cradled in Harry’s arms, getting wet from the rain and hugging for the longest time before their mouths are bumping together messily, shivering a bit, their faces close.  
  
  
“Thought your plane was supposed to land at six,” Louis accuses, but he’s smiling.  
  
  
Harry smiles back, kissing him. “Wanted to surprise you.”  
  
  
Louis quirks his brow. “How’d you know I’d even be here?” he challenges. “I could have gone out somewhere, y’know. Thinking you wouldn’t be back ‘til later.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, confident. “I knew you’d be here,” he says. “I knew if you wanted to see me anywhere near as much as I wanted to see you, you’d be here waiting.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip on a grin, knowing he’s right. And then they’re kissing again, raindrops getting caught between their lips, Louis’s thighs tightening around Harry’s waist.  
  
  
Harry’s hands knead at the small of his back, breaking the kiss to press their foreheads together, breathing hard against his lips. “I’ve got to get my bags, but I really don’t want to let go of you.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, kissing him one more time before he untangles his legs and slides back down, landing on his feet.  
  
  
  
  
It’s cold inside the house. They drop Harry’s luggage in the foyer and round the corner into the den, heading straight for the fireplace against the far wall.  
  
  
“Hey, look who’s back,” Liam says from the couch, having switched from FIFA to Netflix. “Had a good trip, then?”  
  
  
Harry waves his hand with a grin, reaching for the remote that sits on top of the mantle. “Yeah, it was great. Good turn out.” He presses a button and flames come to life inside the hearth, flickering gently.  
  
  
Louis steps up beside him and they keep close, their arms brushing together as they stand side-by-side in front of the fire, letting their clothes dry. Harry is the first to break, his hand curling around Louis’s hip, and then they’re touching again.  
  
  
Louis slips under Harry’s arm, pressing kisses to his bicep, smiling when he feels Harry’s hand tighten around his waist. He looks up at him, touching his stomach. “Have you eaten? I can warm up some turkey chili?”  
  
  
Harry smiles down at him, his eyes soft. “That’d be great, love. Thanks.”  
  
  
It takes a bit of willpower to detach himself from the crook of Harry’s arm, but Louis manages it somehow. He heads to the kitchen, fetching the tub of leftovers from the fridge and dishing some out into a glass bowl. He watches as the timer on the microwave counts down from two and a half minutes, fidgeting as each second slowly drags by. He’s already anxious to get back to Harry, his bare feet restless on the tile.  
  
  
He stops the timer with seven seconds to go, grabs a spoon and a bottle of water before heading back to the den. Harry’s on the loveseat by the fire now, toeing out of his boots. He looks so tired, but he smiles when he sees Louis, accepting the bowl with a grateful nod of his head. Louis sits beside him while he eats, tucked at the end of the couch, not saying much while the others catch up. He’s in a quiet mood, preferring just to listen, delighted that he gets to hear Harry’s voice rumbling warmly from his chest instead of through the receiver of a phone.  
  
  
Once Harry’s finished, Louis carries his bowl back to the kitchen and puts it in the sink, turning out the lights when he rounds the corner again. Harry catches his gaze on his way back to the couch, holding it, almost stopping Louis in his tracks. He feels his knees get weak. There’s something in the air between them now, a constant pull, electric in its intensity, drawing them in and tugging them closer, like magnets. Harry pats his thigh with his hand and Louis goes easily, trying to hide his excitement as he climbs up onto his lap. And then he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, safe and sound and tucked under Harry’s arm, while Harry noses at the soft hair at the top of his head, breathing him in.  
  
  
Louis tilts his chin up, kissing his neck. “Hi, Daddy,” he whispers, hushed against the skin so only Harry can hear.  
  
  
Harry gives his hip a little squeeze at the word. “Hi, baby,” he whispers back, and then it’s just the two of them again. The room disappears.  
  
  
The one bright side, the singular thrill of being apart, is when they get to come back together like this. Louis feels so small where he’s curled up on Harry’s lap, so little and looked after, Harry’s hands rubbing at his thighs and tracing soft, slow patterns into the small of his back while they pretend to watch a film. Every few minutes, he feels Harry’s lips at the top of his head, tickling at the strands and sending goosebumps up his spine, and he bites his lip, smiling to himself, happy and shy. With each slow breath Harry takes, Louis rises and falls where he’s tucked against his chest, and he wraps his arms tighter around him, wanting to be even closer.  
  
  
“Been waiting for this all day,” Harry whispers. “Just wanted to get home and cuddle you.”  
  
  
Louis makes a soft sound, pushing his face into Harry’s neck. “I love being on your lap,” he admits, his voice tiny. “Makes me feel safe.”  
  
  
“You are safe, baby,” Harry tells him, slipping his hand up under Louis’s shirt to span across his tummy. “So safe. Never gonna let anything happen to you.”  
  
  
Harry holds him protectively, adoringly—dotting kisses wherever he can reach and nosing at the nape of his neck, like he’s missed his scent. It’s so intimately affectionate Louis has to hide his face in Harry’s shirt, too overwhelmed by everything he’s feeling all at once, with so much love swelling up in his heart it’s almost difficult to breathe.  
  
  
Harry nudges at him with his chin then. “Look at me.”  
  
  
Louis sits up at that, and Harry gets a good look at him, his gaze traveling over Louis’s face as the light from the television catches on his sharp cheekbones, the little curve of his nose. Harry smiles, leaning in to peck a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”  
  
  
“And I love _you_ ,” Louis whispers, his hand coming up to touch Harry’s face. “You sound so tired.”  
  
  
“I am,” Harry murmurs, rubbing at his eyes. “I never get much sleep on planes.”  
  
  
Louis frowns. “Why don’t you go lie down then?”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head, failing to stifle a yawn. “Don’t want to leave you. I feel bad sleeping now when I’ve just got home.”  
  
  
Louis gives him a fond look. “I’ve been taking two naps a day, H. I’ll fall right to sleep with you.”  
  
  
“You sure?”  
  
  
When Louis nods, Harry tips him backwards onto the couch, their thighs slotting together as they stretch out. He pulls the patched quilt down from the backrest and tosses it over them both, laying his head on Louis’s chest as a pillow, still half-holding him in his lap, their arms tangled together. Louis smiles at how adorable Harry is when he’s sleepy and reaches a hand up to play with his hair, stroking through the slightly tangled strands.  
  
  
Harry groans, nuzzling at him. “I’ll be out in two seconds if you keep doing that,” he warns, mumbling. He has a weakness for having his hair touched.  
  
  
Louis shakes his head. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”  
  
  
Harry hums and turns his head, kissing at his collarbone. “You promise?”  
  
  
Louis nods, his eyes suddenly heavy. “I promise.”  
  
  
  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
  
  
It’s dark when they wake up again, still curled around each other on the loveseat in the den. The other couch is empty, Liam and Zayn having already snuck off to bed. Harry stretches with a yawn, pushing up onto his feet while Louis turns the TV off. They gather up Harry’s luggage from the hall, and then head upstairs to their bedroom.  
  
  
After spending the last five nights alone, Louis can’t stop looking at Harry, can’t stop smiling when he catches Harry looking back. They brush their teeth at the twin sinks and then Harry is crowding up behind him, settling his hands on Louis’s hips.  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, watching their reflection in the mirror while Harry nuzzles at his neck, his fingers teasing at Louis’s shirt hem. “Wanna shower?” he whispers, his lips catching on Louis’s earlobe.  
  
  
Louis nods and then Harry’s tugging him out of his clothes, twisting at the taps.  
  
  
They can’t stop touching – can’t seem to get enough, separating only when they need to before snapping back together, like a rubber band. They wash up quickly and then they’re all over each other again, huddled close under the same spray of water, Louis’s arms going up around Harry’s neck, Harry’s hands at his waist.  
  
  
They spend the longest time kissing, alternating between sweet, affectionate little pecks, and slow, drawn-out clashes of lips that have them pulling apart just to catch their breath before sliding back together again. Their skin is wet and slippery between them, the water hot where it slides down their backs, pattering on the tile. So much exploring – their hands going everywhere, touching as they please, because for days they couldn’t do this and now they _can_.  
  
  
They finally break the kiss, breathless from the shower steam and the fucking _heat_ between them, and Harry noses at his cheek. “Remind me to never leave again,” he murmurs. “Can’t even believe how much I missed you.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, tilting his lips up for just _one_ more kiss. They’ve got plenty of time to spare.  
  
  
  
  
The mirror is completely fogged over once they finally shut off the taps. Harry scoops Louis up, carrying him out of the shower and towards the bedroom, fetching some towels along the way. And Louis tries not to flush with pleasure at being carried. He’s missed this.  
  
  
Harry sets him down by the nightstand, dropping a kiss to his hair. “I brought you presents,” he says, grinning excitedly. And then he darts over to the stack of suitcases by the door, coming back with several shopping bags.  
  
  
Louis stills at that, caught off guard, before remembering what Harry said about having a surprise for him when he got home. He had almost forgot. “Harry,” Louis sighs, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
  
“Course I did,” Harry says, setting the bags down on the bed in front of him. “How else would I get you to stay with me if I don’t shower you with elaborate gifts?”  
  
  
“Fair point,” Louis shrugs, and then he sticks his tongue out at the feigned look of shock on Harry’s face. They can’t stop teasing like this, giggling stupidly. But Harry makes him feel so young.  
  
  
He opens up the packages one by one, finds a bottle of cologne, a new Bluetooth speaker since his old one accidentally fell into the bathtub, a bag filled with loads of American candy he’s never had a chance to try, some travel souvenirs, and a picture of Harry doing the Electric Slide at the charity gala (“Told you someone took photos.”). Harry talks him through each gift, his voice soft and excited. He’s always so happy to spoil Louis. And Louis will never know what he did, what made him lucky enough to deserve this.  
  
  
In the last bag is a little t-shirt fit for a baby, white cotton with “I LOVE NYC” written across the front in bold, red print. Louis holds it up, his face splitting into a grin. “God, that’s so _tacky_.”  
  
  
“I know, isn’t it? That’s why I bought it,” Harry says, rummaging in the bottom of the bag. “Got matching ones for us, too.” And sure enough, he produces two more t-shirts—complete replicas of the newborn one except for their size. He checks the tags, “got a large for me,” he says, slipping it on. “And a medium for you.”  
  
  
Louis smirks. “Surprised you didn’t get me a small.”  
  
  
He raises his arms, and Harry tugs the t-shirt down over his head, fixing his fringe. Then he kisses Louis’s nose. “They were all out of smalls.”  
  
  
Louis pinches his stomach at that and Harry laughs, clearing the empty bags away from the bed. Louis looks down at the floor then, feeling grateful and overwhelmed and a bit embarrassed at being spoiled like this. He never really knows what to say, ‘thank you’ never really seems like enough.  
  
  
He clears his throat. “I’m – thank you. I can’t believe you brought all of this back, but I love everything so much,” he says, his voice quiet, staring at his hands. “Erm…and, well, obviously I was just joking before about – about needing gifts or whatever. You really didn’t have to do this.”  
  
  
Harry watches him, smiling gently. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says. “But I didn’t do it because I have to.” He steps closer and ducks his head, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’s lips. Louis looks back at him, smiling at the sincerity he finds there in his eyes. And then they start getting ready for bed.  
  
  
In his closet, Louis stores the presents from New York up on the shelf, spritzing a bit of the new cologne onto his wrist. He doesn’t bother putting any underwear on, figuring (or rather, hoping) that Harry will just end up taking them off of him soon, anyway. He’s quick to get back to bed, slipping under the sheets. It’s sort of ridiculous how giddy and excited he feels, but he doesn’t really care because finally, _finally_ , they get to share a bed again after five long nights. And while he’s looking forward to the possibility of sex, he’s mostly excited about the comfort of it all, Harry holding him in his sleep.  
  
  
Harry, on the other hand, seems to be in no real rush to get to bed. Instead he tugs on a pair of boxers and starts to unpack his suitcase, tidying up. He’s agonizingly slow about it, sorting the dirty clothes from the cleans one, tossing some into the hamper and tucking the rest back into drawers, humming as he goes. And as always, Louis has a sneaking suspicion that he’s taking his time on purpose, just to rile Louis up and make him wait for it—and it’s working. He’s getting fidgety and impatient, his fingers pinching at the sheets, watching Harry meander about the room.  
  
  
“Harry,” he whines, when he just can’t take it anymore.  
  
  
Harry straightens up and looks around, quirking his brow. And Louis lifts his arms, making grabby-hands at him, shamelessly asking for cuddles.  
  
  
Harry smiles knowingly, dropping the socks he was holding. He steps out of his closet, turning out the light before slowly crossing the floor. And then he’s crawling up between Louis’s legs, brushing his fringe back from his forehead with his hand.  
  
  
He smiles down at him, tipping his chin to press a soft kiss to Louis’s lips. “How have you been feeling? Alright?”  
  
  
Louis nods, “yeah, m’fine.”  
  
  
Harry hums, scooting down a bit until he’s level with Louis’s tummy. He gently pushes up his t-shirt, his eyes soft when he sees the little pouch below his navel, not quite a proper bump yet. “What about the duckling?” he whispers, dotting kisses to the skin. “Still making you tired?”  
  
  
Louis hums in thought. “Sometimes, but not as much. I’m almost done with the first trimester stuff, so…” he shrugs.  
  
  
Harry nods, dropping another kiss to his belly before tugging the shirt back down. Then he slowly makes his way back up, pausing at Louis’s chest. His nipple is hard, poking through the t-shirt. “What about this,” Harry murmurs, rubbing his thumb over it. “Still sensitive?”  
  
  
Louis’s breath hitches at the barely-there touch, surprised at how quickly his body responds to it. “Uhm, just – just a little bit,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.  
  
  
Harry nods, ducking his head to place a single, open-mouthed kiss to the place where Louis’s nipple is stiff and tenting the fabric, and Louis has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from whimpering.  
  
  
Harry just smiles, leaning back up to kiss his forehead, peppering all over with soft little kisses. He’s so gentle about it, and Louis flushes, letting Harry’s lips travel to virtually every centimeter of his face until he starts to whine, eager to speed things up. He’s loving all of the affection, but Harry’s teasing has made him hard. He tilts his chin up for a kiss and Harry gives in to him, brushing their mouths together but still holding back, so Louis parts his lips, inviting Harry to lick into his mouth. Harry does, his hands sliding down Louis’s sides to take hold of his hips. And Louis is so ready and willing he’s almost trembling with it, his thighs going up around Harry’s hips.  
  
  
He wants Harry to touch him, grind against him, press their groins together – something, but he just keeps _kissing_ him, all gentle and slow, tempting and teasing him until Louis is flustered and turned on and canting his hips up from the bed, making desperate little sounds.  
  
  
Harry breaks the kiss then, pulling back with a smirk. “Eager for it tonight, huh?”  
  
  
Louis stops moving at that, gaping up at him, his lips wet. Then he scowls, flushing deeply. “It’s been _days_ ,” he says, averting his eyes. “Thought you’d be _eager for it_ , too.”  
  
  
Harry smiles, shaking his head. “You know I am.” He leans in to nose at his throat, pushing his hips forward so Louis can feel how hard he is, his cock bulging at the front of his briefs. “I’ve been going out of my mind waiting. But I just like how worked up you get sometimes,” he murmurs, bringing his lips up to Louis’s ear. “I like how much you want it.”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, shivering a bit as Harry kisses at the shell of his ear, making his body go limp. “Sometimes it feels like I _need_ it,” he admits, quietly.  
  
  
“Yeah?” Harry grins.  
  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, covering Harry’s face with his hand. “What have I told you about looking smug?”  
  
  
Harry laughs, kissing his palm apologetically. “m’sorry, baby. But I can’t help it when you say stuff like that.” He ducks his head again, latching his mouth to the pulse-point in Louis’s neck, sucking hard, and Louis gasps out, his back arching up from the bed.  
  
  
Harry nuzzles at him, nipping at that same spot with his teeth before pulling back again. “You need me to take care of you?”  
  
  
Louis bites his lip, blinking up at him. “Need _Daddy_.”  
  
  
Harry’s eyes darken considerably, his gaze dropping to Louis’s mouth before raking back up to meet his eyes. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he says, shaking his head, “’m never gonna stop being smug now.”  
  
  
And then he’s gripping at Louis’s hips with both hands, pinning him to the bed.  
  
  
They come together like they’ve been separated for several months instead of days, gripping and pulling and tugging each other close, Harry opening Louis up and kneeling between his thighs, rubbing at his hips while he wraps his legs up around his waist. Louis can’t keep still, staring up at Harry with so much _want_ in his eyes, biting at his lip to keep himself quiet, like he’s been waiting all day for this.  
  
  
There’s nothing in the world like that first slide into Louis’s body, watching his mouth fall open, his little hands coming up to clutch at Harry’s arms because he’s feeling so much all at once. He clenches down hard on his cock and Harry lets out a grunt, his eyes fluttering closed. He has to hold back at first, has to let Louis adjust, even though his body is screaming at him to pound into that tight, wet heat.  
  
  
Harry leans forward then, cradling Louis’s face in his hands, his palms delicate where they rest under his jaw. “Did you miss me?” he whispers.  
  
  
Louis nods, a little breathless, “of course.”  
  
  
Harry keeps his gaze locked on Louis’s face, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip. “All of me?”  
  
  
Louis shivers a bit, smoothing his hands up Harry’s biceps. “Everything.”  
  
  
And then they’re kissing, a little messy because they’re breathing unsteady, their skin hot. Harry rocks his hips forward, groaning when his cock nestles even deeper inside. A moan echoes off the headboard, Louis not used to being so full, trembling with it. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers, his head tipping back as Harry moves inside him, “ _ah – ah_ – _yes.”_  
  
  
Harry lives for those sounds, fucking him harder, his breathing laboured and his eyes clenched shut at how _tight_ Louis is. It’s almost worth it not to fuck him for a few days just to keep him tight like this, but he could never, ever deny Louis like that – could never deny _himself_ of this – of Louis clawing at his back and begging for more of his cock, like he’d go mad without it.  
  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” he wails, pushing down to meet Harry’s thrusts.  
  
  
“Fuck,” Harry breathes. “Missed you – missed you so fucking much.”  
  
  
Louis nods, his breath coming out in tiny little gasps.  
  
  
Harry rocks forward, panting, his hips pumping messily. “Missed being inside you – missed feeling you, always so good on my cock.”  
  
  
Louis’s eyes roll back, his prostate getting pounded, until his body starts to shake. “Gonna make me come – _oh_.” He lets out the most beautiful cry and Harry gets a hand between them to rub his prick, tugging gently and holding Louis close as he comes, fucking him through it.  
  
  
They’re at it for hours, like they’re determined to make up for all the lost time – stopping just long enough to let their bodies recover before Harry’s pulling Louis back down on his cock again, getting his tummy and hips and thighs all covered in slick and come.  
  
  
  
  
It’s almost four in the morning when they’re finally spent, and Louis curls up on the armchair in the corner while Harry changes the sweat-soaked sheets, swapping them out for a fresh set. He cleans them both up with a hot washcloth, slipping the t-shirt from New York back over Louis’s head. And then he carries him to bed, lying beside him in the dark.  
  
  
The moonlight creeps in through the window, casting shadows where it falls over Louis’s sleepy face. “I need you too, y’know,” Harry whispers down to him, carding his fingers through his hair. “And I don’t just mean in bed.”  
  
  
Louis hums happily, turning over to tuck himself close to Harry’s side.  
  
  
Harry’s heart feels full, like he can’t contain it, like his chest will split into two at any moment, his heart leaping out to rest in Louis’s little palm, right where it belongs. He wraps him up in his arms, nosing at his cheek. “You do something to me, that I can’t explain,” he tells him. “I don’t know what I’d do, if I lost it.”  
  
  
Louis smiles, tilting his chin up to kiss Harry’s cheek “You won’t.”  
  
  
Harry hums, kissing him back, “’m so happy I get to sleep next to you again. I missed you. And our little duck.”  
  
  
“Speaking of which,” Louis says, rolling onto his back again so he can see Harry’s face. “Liam and Zayn know.”  
  
  
“They do?” Harry asks, his brow arching up.  
  
  
“Yeah…Zayn saw the sonogram, and Liam…well, he just put two and two together, I suppose.” He pauses, chewing at his lip. “Sorry. I know we said we’d tell them together.”  
  
  
Harry shakes his head. “s’okay, love. They were bound to find out soon, anyway.”  
  
  
Louis stares wistfully down at his tummy, “not at the rate I’m growing,” he frowns. “It’s twelve weeks and I don’t even have a bump, yet.”  
  
  
“Not true,” Harry murmurs. He spoons him in from behind then, slipping his hand up Louis’s t-shirt to touch his belly. “It’s tiny, but it’s there,” he whispers, fanning his fingers out over the skin.  
  
  
Louis shrugs like he doesn’t believe him, and Harry kisses his hair. “You just can’t tell because you’ve been looking at it every day, but I was gone almost a week and trust me, love. It’s grown since I left.”  
  
  
Louis tucks his hand under his shirt, placing it over top of Harry’s, “…really?”  
  
  
Harry nods, nosing at the top of his head. “Mhmm. Nobody knows your tummy better than I do.”  
  
  
Louis just smiles, biting his lip.  
  
  
Harry yawns, snuggling closer. “Twelve weeks you said? How big is it now then?”  
  
  
“The size of a plum.”  
  
  
“That’s so cute,” Harry coos.  
  
  
“I know,” Louis whispers, “’m so excited.”  
  
  
“Me, too,” Harry yawns again, his voice drifting sleepily.  
  
  
Louis cuddles deeper into the pillow, his eyes falling closed. “G’night, Harry.”  
  
  
Harry tucks his nose into the soft spot behind Louis’s ear. “Night, baby.”  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well......
> 
>  
> 
> i'm so anxious lmao *runs away*


End file.
